


Max Gets Chased

by ItsaVikingThing



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: And some cannibalism references, Because I'm committed to the apocalypse thing now, But I'm also committed to the silliness, But there is some overamped action, F/F, Humour, I mean I'm not going to put anything truly icky in this, Increasingly black humour, Post-Apocalypse, Sheer silliness, Surprising survival skills, That's still the main thing, Werewolves, You heard me, Zombies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2018-12-06 14:19:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11602398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsaVikingThing/pseuds/ItsaVikingThing
Summary: Max is having a long lie until Victoria kicks her door open.Turns out zombies are a thing in Arcadia Bay, suddenly, for whatever scientific or mystical reason that will clearly never be explained.At least, as the world collapses around them, it gives Max and Victoria a chance to talk some things out and build a relationship.In fact, surviving zombies, raiders, werewolves, and other apocalyptic and monstrous cliches might prove to be the easy part of their new life together...





	1. Chapter 1

Max is snuggled up with Captain in her bed at Blackwell. She's nestled into that warm space between sleeping and waking in the happy expectation of not having to get up for at least another half hour.

Mrs. Hoida is still off, and while Max feels bad for her teacher, Max can never truly regret a long lie.

Her hopes of a peaceful morning are interrupted when her door bursts open, slams into the wall, and bounces back. Before it can close again, Victoria Chase barges into the room.

Victoria says, "Max, let's move! Zombies are...it's 8 am. Why are you still sleeping?"

Max blears groggily in her general direction. "Still mornin'?"

Victoria is wearing her cashmere, pearls, skirt and leggings. She has a bag slung over one shoulder. She grabs the edge of Max's comforter and yanks it away.

"Wake up, Max! I'm not fucking around here! Zombies are...is that a teddy? Do you still sleep with a teddy? You're 18!"

Max levers herself into a sitting position. Captain perches on her lap. "Victoria...? Why...any of the things you're doing right now?"

"Max! FOCUS! Zombies, Max! We need to get out of here!"

Max tilts her head and hears a distant scream. "This is a prank, right?"

Victoria stares at her. "No, it's not a fucking...could you put the teddy away? And get dressed. And maybe run a brush through your hair, for once? God, Caulfield!"

Max gets up. She tucks Captain back into bed. She turns toward her closet, but Victoria's there, rooting through her clothes.

In the distance, glass breaks and a male voice cries out in terror.

"Uh, Victoria...? Did you say zombies...?" Max picks up her phone and starts texting.

Max glances up when Victoria turns to face her. Max can see the horror in her eyes, the tremor in her hands. "Max...it's so fucking horrible! It's...how could this happen?"

Max shrugs and returns to her phone. "Cosmic dust, radiation, fungal spores, mass hallucination, Nyarlathotep, Book of Revelations...you're...talking about my wardrobe, aren't you?"

"Seriously, why did you even buy this top? You can't pull off this shade of red. And there is literally nothing that goes with it in the rest of your rag collection. Was it a gift? Spoiler warning: the person who gave it to you doesn't like you."

From somewhere down the corridor there's a thud, and a terrified shriek.

"We're cut off from the exit." Max tucks her phone into her bag. She calmly walks over to her floor lamp and unplugs it. "Nice shoes, by the way."

Max picks up the lamp and swings it like a battering ram at the old window near the radiator, breaking it out of its frame and sending it tumbling to the ground below.

"They're Jimmy Choos. You're fucking hopeless, Max." Victoria quickly sorts through Max's wardrobe and dumps suitable clothes onto the couch.

"They have heels, Victoria." Max uses the lamp's base to clear the broken glass and spars away from the edges of the window frame.

"So? Oh. Right. Shit."

"Wanna borrow some-"

"Pseudo-Converse enriched with Smallfield sweat? In children's doll size? No thanks."

"My feet are in proportion to my body. Gimme a hand with the mattress?"

Victoria moves over to the bedside and grabs one end. "Your body is freakishly tiny."

"So are your lips. They almost disappear off your face when you pout...yup, just like that."

Victoria carefully unpouts. "Are we doing this? And how much time do you spend looking at my lips, anyway?"

"Um..."

"Creeper."

Victoria begins to lift the mattress and Max snaps, "Hey! Pick up Captain, first!"

"Really? The teddy?"

Max folds her arms and taps her foot. "Captain. Pick him up and put him on the table. Carefully."

In the corridor, a cry of horror turns into a scream, then a gurgle, then a silence.

Victoria rolls her eyes. "Whatever, loser." She grabs Captain and puts him aside. "Why Captain?"

Working together, they move the mattress to the window, and force it through, dropping it so that it lands flat directly below Max's window, on top of the broken glass and wood.

"Captain is a pirate. Scourge of the seven seas, leader of all of my and Chloe's adventures. That's why Captain." Max grabs some clothes from the pile on the couch. "Over the years, he's also proven sensitive, a good listener, and very snuggle-worthy. That's why you're being careful with him."

"You're so fucking weird, Max."

"The only reason I won't find Agent Blueberry in that bag is if she's specialised in stealth operations, Victoria."

There's a pause, in which another scream can be heard, along with slow, shuffling, dragging feet.

Victoria, red-faced, snaps, "Get dressed!" Victoria closes the broken door and drags Max's bed frame upright. She wedges it against the door as best she can. She mutters, only just audibly, "She specialised in being a badass _icon_. Unlike your stupid teddy."

Max slips into her jeans and her sneakers, grabs her camera bag, and tucks her box of cookies, and Captain into the bag, along with some t-shirts and socks.

Max opens her underwear drawer. Victoria is suddenly beside her, wafting vanilla and cinnamon over Max. "You should take the purple set. The peach doesn't go well with your complexion. Fucking horrible choice. But...yeah, the purple ones are actually nice. Oh, and the pink ones underneath are kinda cute, too. I'm honestly not sure how they'll look on you, but we might be able to work something. Maybe if your hair wasn't so tragic..."

There's a thump at Max's door.

"Victoria?"

"Hmm?"

"This isn't the first time you've looked in my underwear drawer, is it?"

Victoria freezes for a second. Abruptly, she blurts, "That door won't hold for long, Max. Let's move!"

Max grabs the purple and the pink sets and stuffs them in her bag. She scoops up the comforter and ties one corner securely to the radiator, trying to ignore Victoria's smirk.

"Max, do you even know how to...?"

"I played pirates all the time when I was a kid. I can tie a reef knot. I could probably reef a t'gallant sail in a squall, for that matter."

"You just said that because you think I don't know what it means." Victoria crosses to the other side of the room, but Max ignores her while she checks the knot's secure.

Max shoves the comforter out of the window. It's not much, but it'll reduce the fall by a few feet. "I _know_ you don't know what it means. And _that's_ why I said it. After you."

Victoria slips something into her bag that Max thinks looks suspiciously like a bunch of her Polaroids. Victoria moves to the window. She leans out and drops her bag. She pulls herself back in, reverses, and slips a leg over the windowsill. She grabs the comforter. She hesitates. "Max?"

The door thuds again, and the bed frame shudders.

"Could you go already?" Max grabs the nearest end of her couch and drags it into the middle of the room. She looks at the photo memorial wall and sees several gaps corresponding to some of her favourite shots. Max smiles. "What is it, Victoria?"

Victoria mutters, "I just wanted to say...don't drop your fucking bag on my head!"

Max rolls her eyes. She picks up her guitar and weighs it thoughtfully. "I'd use Lisa, if it came to that."

"Who names their plant Lisa? Oh, and fuck you." Victoria grumbles as she descends.

The door buckles under another impact, then collapses inward. Max whips round to see what is unmistakably a zombie and is also unmistakably Warren Graham trying to shamble his way into her room through the broken bed frame.

"Oh, Warren...no!"

From below her window, Victoria grunts, "Well, figures he'd be the first one through your door!"

Zombie Warren stumbles toward Max.

"Victoria, show some respect for the dead!" Max raises the guitar above her head. She mutters, "And you were the first one through my door, anyway."

Zombie Warren walks into the couch, tripping and lowering his head for a moment.

Victoria snaps, "He's not dead ye...oh, shit!"

What follows is the very specific sound made when a Victoria Chase loses her grip on Max Caulfield's comforter dangling from her dorm window and falls onto Max's mattress below.

Max smashes her guitar over zombie Warren's head. Zombie Warren stops moving.

Max hears another zombie scrabbling at her ruined door. She races to the window. Victoria is sprawled on the mattress, rubbing her elbow and scowling.

Max swarms over the windowsill, down the comforter, and drops onto the mattress.

Victoria rolls out of her way, into a flowerbed. "Hey! My cashmere!"

"Priorities, Victoria! You okay?"

Max scans the area around the dorms. The lawn is clear, for now. The front door of the dorms is broken open. Max bites her lip and wonders who else is still trapped up there.

"I slipped. Fucking La Mer on my hands. I'm fine." Victoria stands up, brushes herself off, and picks up her bag.

"Okay, good, we need to...wait, you stopped to moisturise before climbing out a window?"

"I always moisturise at 8.15! I have a routine!" Max raises an eyebrow. "Routines are important!" Max raises another eyebrow. "And _you_ stopped to check your email!"

"I stopped to text Chloe! Aaaand..." Max digs out her phone. "She and David are on their way with a truck, a muscle car, and a lot of guns. Awww, Chloe's so excited she even used a fire emoji."

"Oh. Well...that's terrifying. Still..." Victoria starts off in the direction of the main school.

Max coughs. "Uh, wrong way."

"What? The rescue is that way!"

"Samuel's shed is this way."

"Samuel is weirder than you. Maybe he caused this."

From round the corner, at the Principal's residence, comes the sound of dragging feet.

"Samuel doesn't lock his supply shed. There's an axe in there. A shovel, too. Saw blades..."

Victoria blinks. "You...know all this because...?"

"I...am inquisitive?" Max tries to look innocent.

"You're a bigger snooper than Juliet, you mean."

"Dog, fine! Can we get the zombie killing gear now?"

What once was Logan comes shambling into view, Zach not far behind him. Victoria narrows her eyes. "Oh, yes. Weapons sound _good_."

* * *

A few minutes later, there are no more zombies moving in front of the dorm.

"I never really liked Logan, if I'm honest." Victoria props her bloodied shovel on her shoulder.

Max, doubled over and wheezing for breath, gasps, "Really? No!"

"I don't appreciate your sarcasm, Max. I was trying to have a moment, there."

Max struggles upright. "I just watched you cut off Logan's head! With a shovel! While screaming, 'This is for Manolo!'"

"You cut off Zach's leg, psycho!" Victoria points her shovel at Max accusingly.

"Only because I was nervous about getting his head first time, Victoria! Axes are hard, okay?" Max kicks the offending object in question and tries not to wince over how much it hurts her toe.

Victoria scoffs. "Whatever, Lamefield. Can we get out of here?"

Max hesitates. "I...shouldn't we look for survivors? Aren't you worried about Taylor, or...I just realised. Manolo is a shoe designer. Logan stood on your shoe once, didn't he?"

"They were _new_ , Max! Have you seen the size of his feet? There was no coming back from that! Not that _you'd_ understand!" Victoria turns away, trembling.

Max picks up her axe. She gingerly picks her way over the now quite tricky terrain of the lawn and pats Victoria on the back. "Hey. Shh. It's okay. Logan isn't coming back from _that_ , so..."

Victoria sniffs. "I suppose."

Max gently rubs Victoria's back. "Feel better?"

"I suppose."

"Wanna save some people's lives with me?"

"...I suppose."

* * *

The ground floor is a mess. It's the boys' dorms. It's always a mess.

Max and Victoria exchange a look, share a shrug, and move on to the girls' dorms.

* * *

As they climb the stairs, Victoria says, "I thought you'd be worried about Daniel DaCosta, at least."

"He's out of town this week. Artist's retreat. I hope he's okay. What about Nathan? And Hayden?"

"Nathan's staying with his parents. Hayden and Courtney have been sneaking off together for morning runs for the past month. By morning runs, I mean-"

"I get it. I am familiar with the concept of innuendo, Victoria. You think they're okay?"

"I think they're not here. And that you're blushing because you said innuendo."

Max looks away. "I am not!"

Victoria pauses on one side of the door leading into their floor of the dorms. "Say 'sex', Max. I want to see how red you turn."

Max peers through the window into the corridor. "Ha, I knew it!"

"What?"

"There's a bunch of them outside Dana's room. If there's any survivors, they'll be holed up with Dana. Also, you're clearly still a virgin, too."

Victoria makes a variety of interesting noises that could be defined as falling under the general rubric of 'sputtering'.

Max looks up at her and smiles, softly. "It's okay. I mean, so what, right?"

Victoria looks away. At length she asks, "Why so much faith in Dana?"

"She's the biggest Halloween enthusiast around. Have you seen all the stuff she keeps in her room?"

Victoria shakes her head. "So? I mean, decorations aren't going to do anything."

Max snorts. She grips her axe in her right hand. With her left, she slowly turns the door handle. "Dana doesn't do Halloween _decorations_. She does the real thing. Ghosts, ghouls, demons, spectres, gods...Dana has a whole arsenal for dealing with all of them in there. Zombies? Dana's not getting taken down by zombies."

"Well, that's where Taylor will be then. And Kate."

"Huh?"

"I texted Taylor strict instructions. Grab Kate and find somewhere safe to hole up."

"Huh."

Victoria scowls at Max. "I look after my own, Max!"

"Kate's one of your own?"

"No, but...she's one of yours..."

Max looks down at her axe, bashfully. "Why does that matter?"

Victoria tilts Max's chin up with one long, elegant, slightly blood-spattered finger. "Why do you think, Max?"

They stare into each other's eyes for a long moment, and an understanding passes between them.

There's a sound of splintering wood, and a confusion of panicky voices from Dana's room.

Victoria rolls her eyes and hefts her shovel. Max sighs and readies her axe.

"Did I see Jefferson in there?" Victoria asks.

Max nods. "Yeah. I'll take him, if you don't mind."

Victoria smiles. "Not at all, Max."

Max grabs Victoria's sweater and pulls her into a quick kiss. "We're surviving this."

"You won't, if you stretch my cashmere."

Victoria grins when Max giggles.

They share another look. They smile.

Max turns the door handle and rushes into the corridor, axe raised, knowing that Victoria is right there with her, and always will be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't ask. Sometimes these things just happen...
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope it was fun for you, too!


	2. The Road to Mall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @maniacal1, @Erin_owo, and @Avalon1632 are all dreadful enablers, and they made me do it.
> 
> They didn't make me do it _badly_ , though, so that's on me.

"Max?"

Victoria folds her arms and drums her fingers against her bicep. Her nails, Max notices, are perfect and shiny with varnish.

Max looks at the chipped, dirty things on the ends of her fingers. It's not much better than looking at Victoria's glare.

"Max!"

Max looks out the window, at the Oregon countryside moving past at a steady fifty. "Victoria...I'm trying to watch the road..."

"Oh, please! This isn't a conversation you can keep wriggling out of!"

Max shifts in her seat. "I'm not wriggling, I just...maybe later would be-"

"You literally just wriggled."

"Dog! Fine! Just say it, already."

Victoria sighs. "I'm not enjoying this, Max. But it needs to be said. The truth is, I don't like Chloe. And I'm uncomfortable with how much time she spends with us."

Max squints into the distance, where dust billows over a side road that joins their road a few miles ahead of them. She groans. "Raiders coming. Look, first: Chloe's my best friend."

"Taylor's _my_ best friend. One truck. She isn't always _there_ , though, just...hanging around. Three bikes?"

"Five bikes. And, second, Chloe can't help it! There's not a lot of privacy for any of us these days!"

"Chloe sleeps in our room!"

"It's just until we clear out and barricade another street. You know there's nowhere else for her to sleep!"

"You could make her sleep on the roof, like Taylor," Victoria points out in a reasonable tone of voice. She produces a pearl-handled automatic pistol and chambers a round.

"Oh, yeah, third: please stop making Taylor sleep on the roof!" Max clicks the safety off of her Glock. "That makes _me_ uncomfortable."

"Taylor likes sleeping on the roof!"

"Oh, she does not!"

"I know her better than you, and-"

"I'm not making Chloe sleep on the roof! It's just for a little-"

"It's _always_ just for a little longer! You need to talk to Chloe, Max." Victoria's voice becomes hesitant, vulnerable. "We need some...personal time, and-"

"Aaaand Fourth! Chloe is _right here_ , guys! Y'know, driving the truck?"

Chloe is right there, driving the truck. As she has been for the last half hour, which is when they set out from what David calls base camp -- and the rest of them call Mulberry Street -- on this supply run.

Victoria, who is sitting between Chloe and Max, throws her hands up. "You see? She's always interrupting me! _Us_! She's so rude!"

"Well, I mean-" Max begins.

Chloe winds down her window. As she does, she growls, "Right, yes, clearly _I'm_ the rudest one here! Going to get ahead of them..."

Chloe floors the gas pedal.

Victoria scoffs. "Oh, you are rude in so many ways! Not least being the way you keep trying to deflect from the real issues here!"

"Chloe, she does have a-"

"In my head, I'm pointing these at you, Vicky." Chloe, while still tightly gripping the wheel, extends her middle digits. 

"See? She's so unreasonable!" Victoria points accusingly at Chloe's hands.

"You _could_ be a little more-" Max tries.

" _I'm_ unreasonable, you Hilfiger-drenched assclown?"

"Take that back, right now! I have _never_ stooped to wearing Tommy Hilfiger!"

Max mutters, "This is why I said we should talk about this later..." She winds down her window and unlocks the door. She unclips her seatbelt and half turns in her seat, facing the window.

"At least I try to smell nice, Miss I-don't-wash-while-sharing-a-room," Victoria snaps. She transfers her pistol to her left hand and takes a firm grip of the waistband of Max's pants.

Chloe barely makes it past the side road before the raiders can block them. The raiders' vehicles spread out in their wake and give chase. It's obvious that Chloe's truck can't outrun them.

Chloe snarls, "It was one time!" She takes a hand off the wheel and cocks her revolver.

"You were covered in zombie blood!"

The roar of bike engines as the raiders close in makes regular conversation impossible.

Max feels a faint blossom of hope that the argument has been forestalled.

"I'D BEEN KILLING ZOMBIES! FOR _OUR_ SAFETY!" Chloe screams.

Max sighs, unheard, as hope withers around her. 

Victoria roars, "YOU WERE KILLING ZOMBIES BECAUSE YOU WERE _BORED_!"

"SAME THING!"

Max watches the raiders' bikes steadily gain on them. Each bike has a driver, and a second raider riding on back. They're wearing a mishmash of leathers and carrying a mixture of guns, baseball bats, and what looks like an improvised spear.

The truck is still pretty far behind them, but the bikes are closing fast.

Victoria screams, "MAX AND I HAVEN'T HAD SEX IN MORE THAN THREE WEEKS!"

Max yells, "BRAKE!"

Chloe brakes, her truck swerving and slowing but still moving forward. 

Two of the raiders' bikes zoom past on either side of the truck.

Chloe leans out of her window and fires three shots, dropping the raider on the back of the bike on the left.

Chloe quickly pulls herself back in as bullets shriek past the truck. She slams her foot on the gas pedal, and the truck rattles, roars, and surges forward.

"YOU AND MAX HAVE ONLY BEEN TOGETHER THREE WEEKS!" Chloe notes.

"THAT'S WHY I _REALLY_ FUCKING _HATE_ YOU!" Victoria observes.

Max tries not to catch sight of her blush in the wing mirror. It's something of a relief when two bikes pull up on their right. The last bike stays at the rear of their truck, the raiders on it both taking wild potshots at them.

The rider on the back of the nearest bike levels a pistol at Max's head, six inches away.

Max yells, "VICTORIA! YOU NEED! TO ACCEPT! THAT CHLOE! IS MY FRIEND!"

Max opens the door, throwing her whole weight forward. The door slams into the raider's arm, throwing him off the bike and taking the driver with him.

Max is left with her head a couple of feet above the blurring blacktop as the riderless bike wobbles, topples, crashes and, presumably, explodes. Max is held in place by Victoria's firm grip on her pants. Which means she can use both hands to ready her gun.

Max ignores the other raider bike as it swerves around the first. She ignores it as the bike moves closer to her head. She ignores it as the raider on the back raises his spear.

Instead, Max lines up her shot on the bike behind them. She fires, taking out the front tire. The bike flips forward, throwing the raiders off its back before spinning and sliding in a shower of sparks across the road.

The spear, which, Max notices, is comprised of a kitchen knife duct taped to the shaft of a golf umbrella, rushes toward her head.

Victoria's pistol barks twice, and spear, raiders, bike and all, go tumbling away.

Victoria hauls Max back into the truck. Max grabs the door and slams it shut behind her.

The last two bikes, ahead of them, turn and head straight for them.

"CHLOE! YOU NEED! TO GIVE! TORI AND I! SPACE!"

Chloe opines, "IF SHE BREAKS YOUR HEART, I SWEAR I'LL EAT HERS!"

Chloe grabs her revolver and leans out the window again.

Max half climbs out of hers.

Victoria suggests, "OH, JUST FUCKING EAT _ME_ , PRICE! YOU OBNOXIOUS, MOOD-KILLING, BLANKET-HOGGING-"

The rest of Victoria's epithets on this occasion are drowned out by the synchronous thunder of Max and Chloe's guns.

The last two bikes fall, riderless. The last raider jumps onto the hood of the truck, screaming in desperation. He lands, balances, and raises his baseball bat, ready to smash the windscreen.

Chloe rolls her eyes. "Reload, please." She tosses Max her revolver, then yanks the hand brake, spins the wheel, and pulls a 180, sending the raider flying off the hood.

Chloe throws them in reverse. The raiders' pickup truck speeds towards them. It's full of leather-clad men, all readying weapons.

Chloe frowns. "Wait...I'm not the blanket hog! _Max_ is-"

"OH! Hey, your gun that you need reloaded that I'm reloading!" Max opens the revolver and dumps the empty shell casings in the footwell. She tugs a handful of loose rounds from her hoodie pocket. "Uh, Chlo...y'know...we do have a sleeping bag? If you wanted to sleep on the floor? Or anything?"

Chloe says, "Nah, I'm good. It gets hella chilly at night. But seriously, Victoria, if you hurt Max...oh, hey, cool! An RPG!"

A raider in the back of the truck produces that very weapon and steadies it on the top of the cab.

Victoria snaps, "Look, Chloe, I may hate you and your fucking ice block feet, but...I care about Max! And I can't _prove_ that to you if you're fucking...smothering us, okay? Dead stop?"

Max says, "Yeah, and three count. Look, Victoria has a point, Chlo. Especially about your feet. Mag, Tori?"

Victoria passes a spare magazine to Max, who reloads her own gun.

Chloe mutters, "I...fuck, Max!" She brakes, bringing their truck to a dead stop. "I just...you were gone so long, and...now Victoria wants to take you away..." Chloe surreptitiously wipes a tear from her eye and cocks her revolver.

The raider truck brakes sharply, slewing to a stop twenty feet away.

"No one's taking me away from you! We're best friends. Always. I know this is going to be hard, Chlo. But we can figure this out! 3, 2, 1..."

Max shoves the door open and dives out onto the road. She rolls and comes up into a crouch, already firing.

Victoria follows her, bracing her gun in the open window of the truck's door and firing with precise, carefully timed shots.

Chloe hops out of her side, tugging another revolver from her jacket pocket and setting both guns to blazing.

* * *

When it's over, they all gather at the side of Chloe's truck.

Max says, "Y'know...it's only been a few weeks. Civilisation went to shit _really_ fast, huh?"

Chloe shrugs. "I honestly don't see much difference. Except, y'know, more zombies. These assholes are just assholes."

"What I'd like to know is, where the fuck did they get all that leather? And...why...? Just...why would they do that to themselves? It's such a tacky look."

Chloe chuckles. "Heh. Oh, speaking of finding things, where'd you get that pearl-handled pistol? Pretty sure David didn't have one, and it's not exactly Arcadia Bay pig standard." Chloe pulls a hip flask from her pocket, and unscrews the top.

"I've been curious myself, actually, Tori."

"Well, I'm not a fucking thief, Price. And, of _course_ you're curious, Max. That's your fucking default state."

Max shrugs and throws an arm around Victoria's waist. "Yeah, I'm owning it these days. Tell me your secrets, Victoria!"

Victoria snorts. She puts her arm around Max and kisses her temple. "This gun is mine. I got it because it matches my pearls."

Max and Chloe stare at her. Chloe takes a swig from her flask.

Victoria huffs in irritation. "What? You can be a liberal and still like guns!"

Chloe spits a fine mist of what Victoria suspects is alcohol and Max knows is Pepsi. " _You_ are a fucking _liberal_?"

"Yes. Is that so shocking? I was at a fucking art school!"

Max gently kicks Chloe's shin. "Come on, Chloe! Of _course_ she is!" Max leans into Victoria's side and whispers, "Uh, are you serious, babe?"

"Did you just call me _babe_?"

"Ha! Did you just call her babe?"

Max pouts, and grumpily holsters her pistol. "I just wanted to try it out..."

Victoria sighs and grabs Max's hoodie. She tugs Max round, and kisses her for a considerable period of time. When the finally part, Max emitting a gooey sigh, Victoria says, "Don't ever call me babe again."

Max grins and kisses Victoria back. "Buuut...you totally want me to try more pet names, right?"

Victoria shoots a glance at Chloe. "No!"

"Okay, Victoria. I will not do that, then." Max winks at Victoria with painful theatricality.

Victoria groans and rubs her brow. "Max..."

Chloe looks at Max, and then at Victoria. "Okay, okay...you can be kinda cute sometimes..." 

They all share a look.

Max says, "Chloe...please give Victoria a chance. And Victoria...give Chloe one last chance?"

Victoria groans. "Fiiiine! But she has to get her own fucking room!"

Chloe says, "Look, I know I've been kind of a dick, Max. I just...hate Victoria and I don't think she's good enough for you. That's all. But I'll try to stop looking past the surface at her shrivelled excuse for a soul and just focus on how hot she is. For your sake."

"Thanks, Chlo! That would mean a lot. As would you never sharing a bed with us again, or even a bedroom. Ever."

"I...guess I could bunk in with Kate for a while...I bet she doesn't snore like Victoria."

"You're an asshole and a source of misery to everyone around you, Price."

"Thanks, Vicky!"

Chloe grins at Victoria, who sheepishly smiles back. "So...I suppose we should grab what we can and get back to the supply run?"

Chloe says, "Ooh, dibs on the RPG!" She runs, whooping gleefully, to the raider truck.

Max sighs, smiling fondly after her. "Aww, it's nice to see her so cheerful these days, y'know?"

"Whatever. Still hate her." Victoria bangs the butt of her gun three times against the side of the truck.

From under a tarpaulin in the back, Taylor emerges, eyes wide and hair wild. "I-I'm...I'm okay! That was, like, so scary! And you were all so-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah!" Victoria waves Taylor's words away. "Tell Max you like sleeping on the roof."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading folks!
> 
> I really do hope you enjoyed another dip into...whatever this is.
> 
> Writing this is still making me laugh, but I have absolutely no plans to write any more of it. None. None at all. Not even the faintest glimmer of a notion of what's going to happen when they get to the mall.
> 
> Seriously, though, I wouldn't expect another update soon...


	3. Mall People

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, no...I've written another part...and it's really long...

Max is agonising over whether to load her bag with cans of Spam or cans of corned beef when Chloe's voice suddenly says, "Hey guys! Uh, so...do you want the good news or the bad news?"

Max groans. She's in a grocery store on the first floor of the Guillermin Mall. Victoria's raiding a nearby pharmacy.

Getting to the mall had been easy, their encounter with raiders aside. Getting in had been trickier, but Chloe's lockpicking skills had proved high-level enough to get them through a side door.

Once they were safely inside, they'd split up. Taylor and Chloe went off half an hour ago to stock up on bedding, winter clothes, and other necessaries. Max hasn't seen either of them since.

Chloe's voice blares out over the PA system again. "Uh, okay...dumb question! I guess we'll go with the bad news first?"

Max shakes her head. Given the number of zombies they'd found, this was _supposed_ to be a stealth mission. But for Chloe, stealth -- at most -- means not _always_ shouting.

Max sweeps a bunch of random cans from a few different shelves into her bag, hauls it onto her shoulder and staggers out of the store.

Max emerges onto a white-tiled glass-and-chrome balcony overlooking the ground floor. There's evidence that the upper floors of the mall were overrun. Things like overturned stalls, torn signs, broken windows, and old bloodstains all point in the direction of zombie mayhem. But there are no zombies on the upper floors that Max has seen. They seem content to keep to the ground floor, and the mall has appeared otherwise deserted.

So when Max spots movement on the opposite balcony, she's not startled. It's Victoria, stalking across the tiles with the furious elan of a model who has just been dropped by her label three seconds before being shoved onto the catwalk.

She stops at the railing directly across from Max, twenty feet away. She's carrying a Vuitton gym bag that should be as full of drugs as Max's ratty duffel is full of dubious canned goods. Victoria gestures angrily at the nearest speaker.

They _do_ need to watch their noise levels. They can't afford to draw any zombies upstairs. Chloe's voice is a problem, but it's booming out from every direction. Hopefully it won't bring anything up on them before they can find out what's going on.

With all that in mind, Max makes the most intelligent contribution she can to the silent conversation with Victoria.

She shrugs helplessly.

Chloe's voice, echoey and distorted, says, "Okay! You're both there! Cool! Soooo, Taylor's been kidnapped? By some sort of death cult? Or maybe it's a bath cult...? They're wearing robes, but the robes are _really_ fluffy, so...it's honestly hard to say."

Victoria's eye twitches.

Max spreads her hands and offers Victoria an apologetic look.

Chloe says, "Look, Taylor said she had something 'mission critical' to take care of, whatevs the hell that means, and she went off on her own. I guess she got jumped. I went running when I heard her yell, but...the weirdos took her."

Victoria's eyes widen. Her jaw works silently.

Max winces. She meets Victoria's gaze and pats her pistol.

Victoria bites her lip. She nods.

Chloe says, "So...I mean, given how things have been going lately, it's safe to say these guys are going to be cannibals. Right? But I figure they'll want to, like, season her and shit? So we should have time for a rescue!"

Victoria throws her arms up, her expression darkening.

Max hangs her head.

It gives her a good view of the ground floor of the mall. Well, it would, if the floor wasn't packed with milling zombies. Though technically, Max supposes, that would make them malling zombies...

Chloe's voice is definitely agitating them. There's an increase in general movement below as zombies start to shuffle off in pursuit of different speakers.

Max looks up at Victoria. She's got her arms folded, and she's almost vibrating due to the force with which she's tapping her foot. Max decides to share the pun with her another day.

Victoria begins to make elaborate hand gestures at Max. Max wonders if David taught her military hand signals, or if this is some kind of socialite voguing. Either way, Max has no idea what Victoria's trying to say. She watches attentively, though, not wanting to be rude.

It's a relief when Chloe's voice interrupts them. "So, more bad news! I'm kinda trapped in the security office. There're zombies outside, but I'm safely barricaded for now. So...yeah, I might need rescuing, too..."

Max checks the load on her pistol and nods firmly at Victoria.

Victoria checks her nails and makes a see-sawing gesture with her other hand.

" _Hey_! So the _good_ news is this whole place is being powered by generators, so I've got the security cameras running. I can track Taylor and the robe guys. And I can see _you_ , asshole!"

Victoria rolls her eyes.

Max suppresses a grin.

Chloe says, "Looks like they're dragging her down to the basement. I'll see if I can figure out where exactly. Buuut, while we're waiting, the _other_ good news is...dudes! We found a fucking _monster truck_ near the main entrance! It was on display as a prize for a competition or something. We _have_ to take that baby for a spin!"

Victoria closes her eyes and sighs. For seven seconds, by Max's count.

Max looks around until she spots a camera trained on her and offers a conspiratorial thumbs up.

When Victoria opens her eyes, Max gestures at her to wait for her.

Victoria huffs and starts in on the hand signals again.

Max meets her eye, grins, and mouths, "Just wait, babe!"

Victoria turns scarlet and almost drops her sports bag. She stops trying to gesture, and settles down to wait, eyes down and cheeks flushed.

Chloe says, "Aww! You guys are so gross!"

Max rolls her eyes at the camera and turns to go. She freezes when she spots movement on the upper floor. A woman with grey-streaked blonde hair wearing a mauve terrycloth bathrobe slips out of the fire door fifteen feet behind Victoria.

She has a strip of fabric tied around the lower half of her face and a loaded crossbow in her hand.

The robed woman is focused on Victoria. She doesn't seem to have seen Max yet. Max reaches into her bag, keeping her movements slow and even.

Max glances at Victoria, who meets Max's eye and flicks a look over Max's shoulder.

Max nods. She juts her chin in the direction of the robed woman.

Victoria narrows her eyes. She changes her grip on her bag with one hand and slips something out of her pocket.

Max tenses, ready to spring.

Chloe blares over the PA, "Guys, look out!"

The robed woman panics at the sound of Chloe's voice, raises her crossbow and fires at Victoria.

Victoria is already moving, though. She ducks down and yanks one side of her bag up so that it covers her body lengthwise. The crossbow bolt punches through the bag and its contents, stopping just short of Victoria's heart.

Victoria glares at the camera, quickly shaking her head.

"Shit! Sorry, Victoria," Chloe says. She sounds as genuinely abashed as someone can sound when they're talking through a mall-wide PA system.

Mauve Robe drops her crossbow and tugs a combat knife out of her terrycloth belt. She charges at Victoria, who calmly unzips her sports bag, produces a bottle of aerosol deodorant, and holds up the thing she took from her pocket: her lighter.

Mauve Robe's eyes widen in panic. She tries to swerve aside and dive behind a chrome trash can. She's just a little too slow. Victoria flicks her lighter and presses the button on the deodorant. A cone of flame blasts out at Mauve Robe's body, setting her robe ablaze. She drops her knife and struggles out of her burning garment.

Victoria drops the aerosol and stalks towards Mauve Robe, a wrathful expression on her face. She picks up the trash can, hoisting it over her head. At that point, Max hears movement behind her. She spins, finding a bath-robed man wearing a hockey mask and wielding a lacrosse stick bearing down on her. 

He's wedged razor blades at a variety of interestingly lacerating angles into the head of the stick.

"Man, stuff like this is why I hate sports," Max mutters. 

Max pulls her hand out of her bag and lets fly, nailing his right knee with a can of lychees. He stumbles, catches his foot on the hem of his teal robe, and collapses. His momentum carries him forward, sliding across the smooth tiled floor. Max quickly sidesteps, narrowly avoiding his flailing limbs. He hits the glass barrier at the edge of the balcony.

He tries to struggle upright, wrestling against his robe and his stick.

Max roots around in her bag until she finds an economy-sized can of chestnuts. She steps behind him and raises it with both hands. He tries to turn, and swing his stick at her, but she's too close for him to be able to generate sufficiently injurious torque. Max brains him with the can. He flops down, unconscious.

She strips the belt off his robe and ties his hands behind his back. She grabs the lacrosse stick and jogs towards the connecting walkway. By the time she's crossed it, and reached Victoria's side, Mauve Robe is passed out on the ground. The chrome trash can, thoroughly dented, lies beside her.

Victoria has recovered the other woman's crossbow, and reloaded it with the bolt that pierced her bag. She's recovered her composure, too.

But...her fancy-labelled bag has been ruined. Max is pretty sure Victoria's not okay. Max takes Victoria's hand and gently squeezes it. Victoria quickly looks away, her expression crumpling. Max gives her a few seconds to feel the loss.

Chloe says, "Um, you guys are going to need to get to the other side of the mall. And it looks there's a collapsed bit of the roof blocking the upper floor walkway, so...you're gonna have to go downstairs. Have fun with the z-dudes!"

Victoria extends her middle finger at the nearest camera.

Max props the battered trash can upright and stuffs the lacrosse stick into it.

While she does, Max notices Victoria grimace and wipe her hand on a piece of surviving mauve cloth.

The hand Max squeezed.

Max looks down at her hands and swallows. Between work on Mulberry Street's defenses before they left, the raider attack, and dealing with zombies in the mall, Max's hands are filthy. She brushes them guiltily across her jeans a few times while Victoria's back is turned.

Max joins Victoria. They move towards the nearest stairwell, Victoria in front, Max watching her back.

* * *

The thing that weighs on Max the most as they creep down the stairs is the abrupt realisation that Victoria smells great.

She's wearing that cinnamon perfume, and there's something subtle and floral in her hair that works surprisingly well in combination.

Max thinks that she smells okay. For the apocalypse. Which is to say that she smells a bit like a dirty laundry bag. Victoria hasn't said anything, but...Max is sure Victoria doesn't approve.

How could she, when she's always so perfectly presented?

Max is so busy thinking she tries to walk down one more stair than is actually there. She stumbles, and Victoria shoots her an irritated look.

Max winces apologetically.

Victoria takes up position at the door to the main floor of the mall. She nods at Max. Max crosses behind her, and puts her back to the wall next to the swing door. She eases it open slowly, while Victoria covers the widening gap with her crossbow.

Nothing tries to eat them, even when the door is fully open.

Victoria is first through the door, Max following close behind her.

There are maybe a hundred zombies in front of them. More to the point, there are a hundred zombies _between_ them and where they need to be.

Max looks around until she spots a camping store. She nudges Victoria, who glances back. Max nods at the store. Victoria quirks an eyebrow, then slowly smiles. The store is on the same side of the hall as them, two doors down. It requires passing by no more than a dozen zombies.

Max slips her knife out of her pocket and thumbs it open.

Victoria nods. They move.

* * *

When they're inside the store, with the door closed behind them, it's safer to make some noise.

So Victoria immediately whispers, "Every time, Max! Every. Time." She gestures angrily at her now blood-spattered boots and tights.

Max winces. She begins moving down the aisles of the store, grabbing a pot and a primus stove. Over her shoulder she says, "I said I was sorry!"

Victoria pulls a spare clip from her bag and raises an eyebrow. "No you didn't!"

"Well, okay...I _mouthed_ it, though." Max dumps the stove and pot on the counter and goes back to searching the shelves.

Victoria starts thumbing bullets from the clip, dropping them into the palm of her free hand. "Is it _so_ hard not to get blood everywhere when you kill zombies, Max? You're so untidy!"

Max returns to the counter with an armful of gas bottles. "You know I have a hard time with the tall ones!"

Max deposits the bottles and hunts down a couple of collapsible umbrellas.

"Oh, please!" Victoria carefully fills the pot with bullets. "Let's not make this about your height."

"Fine, I-"

"By which I mean your complete lack of height. Maybe we could get you a stool or a step ladder for your zombie killing needs? For the sake of my fucking wardrobe?"

Max glares up at Victoria. Victoria, whose appearance would be somehow immaculate if it wasn't for Max. Max tries not to think about how dishevelled she is, and about the bloodstains, old and new, on her patched hoodie and tattered kicks. 

Max slumps. "Sorry, Victoria. Okay?"

Victoria blinks. "Uh...okay. Are you...?"

"I'm fine." Max shrugs and puts the pot on top of the stove. She loads a gas bottle into the base of the stove and lights it up. Victoria opens up all the other gas bottles, arranging them near the pot, shooting little glances at Max while she does.

They leave the store quickly and quietly, Victoria leading with her crossbow ready.

They take cover behind a pillar. Max avoids Victoria's gaze as best she can, shrinking into her hoodie.

All at once there's the whump of an explosion followed by a series of pops as the bullets start firing off. Max listens to the sound of glass shattering and metal pinging and the sounds of excited zombies malling towards all the noise and heat.

Max is pleasantly surprised when, after a few seconds, Victoria slips her hand into Max's. Max finds Victoria looking at her, smiling almost shyly. Max smiles back, captivated by how green Victoria's eyes are in the light of the burning zombie that staggers past their hiding spot.

Max's smile falters when she realises that Victoria is trying to say sorry for being mean about Max's height. And that isn't the problem. Max gently removes her hand from Victoria's much softer, cleaner one. She passes Victoria an umbrella. Victoria frowns slightly, but accepts it with a nod.

They wait in silence, listening to the occasional metallic ping of a ricochet.

When it seems like the last of the bullets have fired off, Max slips out from behind the pillar. Most of the zombies in the area are swarming the now burning store. Max dejectedly kicks the back of the knee of one zombie that's too close, knocking it over, and moodily stabs it in the brain.

She glances at Victoria, who is covering her with the crossbow, a concerned look in her eye.

At that point, a fire alarm starts trilling and the sprinklers in the nearby stores start a deluge of stagnant water.

They both raise their umbrellas against the water that sprays out through broken windows around them.

Max puts on a weak smile for Victoria, then sets off quietly down the hall while the zombies are distracted.

* * *

They're on the other side of the mall, looking for a way down, when Chloe's voice next comes over the intercom.

"Hey, guys! You're doing _great_! But, uh...remember that big fire I forgot to tell you about?"

Max and Victoria exchange a pointed look.

Technically, Max is confused, but since she's stabbing one zombie while Victoria crossbows another, Max figures it's definitely also a pointed look.

The zombies are slightly less densely clustered in this part of the mall, but there are still enough of them around that Max and Victoria have had to make slow, cautious progress.

"So this is totally not my fault, but some kind of salon on this side of the mall caught fire earlier. And I guess the sprinklers over here aren't working? So, yeah, _wow_! That fire is really out of hand! Haha! Yup, I'm watching that sucker really _move_. It sure is going to consume the whole mall! Particularly since that other fire you guys started is contained but still going, too. Soooo...maybe speed up the rescue a little?"

Victoria meets Max's eye. She points up, then down, then spreads her hands and raises her eyebrows. 

Max sighs. She gives a guilty glance to the nearest camera.

Chloe says, "Chill, Max! Go get Taylor. She's in more trouble than I am. They took her down two sub-levels, but the cameras are out down there. So I'll just...hang out here. Maybe look for snacks in that cupboard. Read the articles in this crochet magazine. Listen to the zombies breaking down the door. Y'know, just hang out..."

Max and Victoria hustle for the nearest staff only door, dodging the occasional zombie. They pause on either side of the door.

Max keeps her knife in her left hand, and draws her pistol. Victoria slings the crossbow onto her back, draws her own gun and nods at Max. Victoria kicks the door open, and Max rushes through into an empty concrete corridor. Victoria follows, covering her back. 

Max frowns. There aren't any zombies in sight, but there aren't any signs, either. She raises an eyebrow at Victoria and gestures left, then right.

Victoria hesitates.

Chloe says, "Uh, so, there's an elevator to the left about...roughly some kind of distance away?"

Victoria rolls her eyes. They move stealthily down the corridor, Max leading, her gun trained in front of her. Victoria walks behind her, one hand on Max's shoulder, her torso turned and her gun aimed behind them.

They only make it ten feet before Chloe says, "Uh, guys? I clearly meant _my_ left, not yours! And there're no weirdos in robes around, so...you can probably skip the whole commando thing. Unless that's your fetish..."

Max and Victoria exchange an irritated look. They trudge off in the other direction, Victoria pouting and letting her her gun hang sulkily from her fingers.

They reach the elevator a minute later. They press the call button and take up position on either side of the elevator. Victoria fishes out her compact and angles the mirror so that she can see into the elevator.

Max waits, watching Victoria for her signal. But also just...watching her. She still looks every inch the perfectly polished social queen, give or take the odd bloodstain and the pearl-handled pistol ready in her hand. Max's style has ranged from shabby-without-chic to downright scruffy in her pre-apocalypse days. These days...Max wonders what Victoria sees when she looks at her.

Victoria murmurs, "You're staring."

Max smiles nervously. "Yeah, well. I'm allowed to stare. I'm your...girlfriend. Right?"

Whatever's in Max's voice makes Victoria quickly look up from her mirror. "What-"

The elevator dings.

Max tenses, ready to move, while Victoria checks her mirror. After a second she says, "Clear."

As Max straightens up and walks into the elevator, Victoria says, "Max? Hey, are you..."

She trails off, her nose wrinkling. Max sniffs and catches it, too: the smell of smoke wafting down the corridor. 

She sighs. "I guess we'd better go."

Victoria nods. They get into the elevator, and Max pushes the button for the second sub-basement.

The elevator is old, a scratched and dented stainless steel affair, recently refurbished with a bloodstain and bullet hole motif.

Victoria tucks her mirror and pistol away and drops her bag and the crossbow to one side. She crouches, cupping her hands. "You know, Max..." She hesitates, thinking, then blurts, "Uh...Chloe definitely started this fire that's going to wreck the place, right?"

Max shrugs. "It might have been the bath cultists..." She holsters her own weapons, dumps her own bag, and steps into Victoria's palms, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Victoria stands up, hoisting Max up to the ceiling of the elevator. "Right! If they _actually_ worshipped baths, they'd wear less shitty robes. And why would they burn their own place down? Next you'll blame Taylor!"

Max opens the emergency hatch and scrambles up on top of the elevator, boosted by Victoria. "So...I've been meaning to ask. Do you know what Taylor's 'mission critical' assignment was, exactly?"

Max braces herself and reaches down into the elevator. Victoria leaps up, one hand grabbing Max's, the other finding the edge of the hatch. Max pulls and Victoria heaves herself up next to her.

"You know Taylor! Always getting strange ideas in her head..." Victoria's face reddens.

"Uh huh. Um...Victoria, Taylor kinda always does what you say. So most of those _strange_ ideas are, well, yours..."

Victoria hisses, "Shh! Ding, Max."

Max shushes. The elevator dings.

Before the doors are halfway open, a hail of machinegun fire bursts to life, chewing up much of the interior from around waist height up. The sound of the guns and the occasional ricochet is so loud Max wishes she had earplugs.

When the gunfire stops, Victoria sniffs. "Rude."

Max drops through the hatch, rolls, and comes up in a crouch, firing at the three bathrobed men she can see reloading in front of the now fully opened elevator doors. Victoria drops down behind her, standing upright and snapping off three quick shots over Max's head.

Silence falls.

Victoria gasps. "Shit! I've got elevator oil on my cashmere! I fucking hate this place. Covering."

"I don't really know why you wear that stuff on missions like this." Max reloads her pistol, thinking. "Hey, so...Taylor was up to something for you, right? Move."

"First of all, it's called having _standards_ , Max." Max flinches and hopes that Victoria doesn't notice. "Maybe there's a store here where we could get you some?"

Victoria collects her bag and crossbow then takes up a covering position at the elevator door while Max collects her things. Sadly it seems that no bullets have torn through any of the tinned goods in Max's bag.

Victoria says, "Moving." Max takes up Victoria's position as she warily moves into the corridor. "Secondly, just because Taylor's my friend-"

"She's more like your servant." Max waits for Victoria to find cover in a doorway before heading out after her.

"She is not! She's just happiest when she has some chore to focus on!"

Victoria reaches a corner and takes out her compact again, checking what's ahead with her mirror.

Max moves up behind her, hugging the wall. "Chores like...clearing out an entire house full of zombie bodies all by herself?"

"There's a barricade ahead. Looks like one...no, two robes. And hey! I did help!"

"You gave her a pair of gloves and left her to it." Max taps Victoria's shoulder, and gestures back up the hall where a fire hose is neatly coiled on the wall and an axe is sitting behind safety glass.

Victoria goes to the fire gear. "Giving her gloves _was_ helping! Would you have made her do it barehanded?"

Victoria opens the isolation valve securing the end of the hose. Max breaks the glass protecting the axe with the butt of her pistol. 

"She loves those gloves," Victoria mutters, unspooling the hose. "She'd be lost without those gloves. She's had to move so many bodies over the last few weeks..."

Max says, "You could give her a hand? Sometimes? I have!" Max holsters her pistol and tugs the fire axe out of its wall mount.

Victoria stalks down the corridor, gripping the head of the hose. "Well, of course _you_ have! You like to run around helping all the people in our warped little community all hours of the day or night! And you help Chloe, too!"

"What's wrong with helping...wait." Max follows her, hefting the axe. "Victoria. We've talked about this. You know Chloe's not actually a feral being who was found wandering in the dump, right? She's human!"

Victoria pauses and faces Max, arching one perfectly plucked eyebrow to the exact angle that conveys utter incredulity.

Max sighs. She drops her bag, opens it, and stuffs a couple of tins into her hoodie pockets. "Okay, yes! She _slept_ in the dump for, like, a day or two. When she was older. But-"

Victoria snorts. "I just hope we find a decent vet soon, so we can keep Chloe's shots up to date."

Max glares at her.

"Oh, don't give me that look! I'm letting you keep her, aren't I?" She twists the handle of the hose. Water begins to pour out. Victoria quickly rounds the corner, aiming the nozzle high

Max sprints round her, racing for the barricade. It's ten feet away, constructed of office desks and chairs and lashed together with cable ties. It's only about seven feet high, but it blocks the width of the corridor and is an effective obstacle, even without bathrobed people defending it.

Two such people are, in fact, looking over the barricade, holding guns, but Victoria's keeping them distracted with the hose. It's not high pressure enough to knock them over, but the water Victoria's directing at their faces makes it impossible for them to aim properly.

Max charges at the barrier, gripping the axe in both hands and screaming, "CHLOE IS _NOT_ A FERAL BEING!"

Victoria yells, "YOU'RE IN DENIAL! WE'VE ALL SEEN THE WAY SHE EATS!"

Max swings the axe at the surface of an upright desk, lodging the head deep in the wood substitute. She hauls herself up the axe handle, grabs the top edge of the desk with one hand and pulls a can out of her pocket with the other. Max waits while Victoria sweeps the hose across the top of the barricade, then heaves herself over the top.

A sodden man and woman are huddled below her on a platform of desks that provides a rudimentary firing step. They gape up at her. The woman in the lemon robe is slightly faster to react than the man in the heliotrope one, swinging her pistol up at Max. Max lets fly with the can, hitting her on the nose. She yelps and tumbles off the desk, dropping her gun and clutching at her face.

The robed man screams, "Charlene! My god, she Spammed you!"

While he's distracted, Max scrambles over the top of the barricade and puts all of her martial arts skills to work.

She falls on top of him. 

She manages to hit him in the chest feet first and knock him onto the floor. Max falls too, but she manages to roll, stagger a couple of steps away from the barricade and swing round, training her gun on Charlene and friend, who are both still trying to recover.

"Stay down unless you want to get...uh." Max tugs out the can from her other pocket and checks the label. "Artichoke Hearted, too!"

* * *

Five minutes later, Charlene and Bob are tied up and Victoria and their bags are with Max on the other side of the barricade.

Charlene glares balefully at them through a pair of black eyes and over a swelling nose.

Victoria says, "So what is it? Lame death cult or cheap bath cult? We've been wondering what the ugly robes are about."

Bob and Charlene exchange a confused look. Bob says, "It's...laundry day?" 

"We're nod sabages," mutters Charlene, wincing.

Max blinks. "Oh...um..."

Bob says, "Are Ted and Marty and Harry okay?"

Max purses her lips. "The people upstairs are okay...were okay. When we left them...they're probably still fine!"

"The ones by the elevator aren't," Victoria says, bluntly. "But they shot first. Bunch of Greedos."

Max winces. "Victoria! Come on!"

Victoria glares at Max. "What? You want me to be sensitive with the people trying to murder us?!"

Max says, "Well, that too. But I also want you to accept that _Han_ shot first."

"But then, by your logic, we'd be Greedo. And Greedo is gross and sleazy. Is that what you really want, Max? To be sleazy and gross?"

Max blinks. "Um, I-"

"Thought not! " Victoria smirks triumphantly.

Max mutters, "I want to have not watched the Remastered Star Wars movies with you..."

Bob sighs. "The accountancy team are all...dead?"

Victoria scoffs. "Oh, please! Your people have been trying to kill us without warning since we got here!" 

"Dis is our blace!" Charlene protests.

"We all worked here," Bob explains. "We're trying to build a safe place for ourselves, that's all!"

Max bites her lip. "Um...oh..."

Victoria rolls her eyes at Max. "Oh, god! You can't be falling for this bullshit, Max! They didn't even _try_ talking to us first. Or putting up basic 'Keep Out' signs to warn people!" Victoria jabs a finger at Bob. "You assholes kidnapped my friend! When she was in a fucking beauty salon! She wasn't exactly stealing vital survival supplies! And you _are_ planning to eat her, aren't you?"

Charlene and Bob exchange another confused look.

Bob says, "Well...yeah? Obviously! It's the apocalypse. What else would we do?"

Victoria nods, satisfied. "See, Max? You just have to use logic in these situations."

Max stares at Bob and Charlene. She slowly says, "Uh...maybe you could just eat the canned goods upstairs...?"

Bob pauses. "Well, okay...sure. I guess we'll do that, too. But right now we're just..."

Charlene shrugs. "We're goinb wid the flow."

"Exactly," says Bob, smiling. "Hey, if zombies can eat people, why can't we?"

Max clears her throat. She glances nervously at Victoria. "So...you'll want to, uh, season her and shit first, though. Right? She's...still alive?"

Charlene rolls her eyes, wincing. "Yes! I said we're nod sabages!"

"We're out of marinade after eating the marketing team, too," Bob points out. "She'll be fine until we fix up a new batch!"

Max sighs. "So...where's your kitchen? And your generator room?"

* * *

They leave Bob and Charlene tied up behind them, taking their guns and spare ammunition. Max recovers the dented can of Spam, too, tucking it into her pocket.

They stalk through the concrete maze of tunnels, following Bob's directions to the 'kitchen': an old supply room that's been gutted and fitted with kitchenware from the stores aboveground.

According to Bob, the sub-levels of the mall are easier to defend and an ambitious rennovation programme is underway, with the kitchen and refectory done, the gym in progress, and the AV room development stalled out after an argument over the optimal sound setup turned violent.

Max and Victoria move as quietly as they can until they reach the generator room, managing to avoid further run-ins with the Mall People, though they have to hide a couple of times from men and women in colourful robes wielding an assortment of sports and kitchen implements and the occasional gun.

It's not until they're in the diesel-reeking generator room that they can risk talking again; the sounds of their voices are effectively masked by the sounds of the generators.

Max dumps her bag on the floor, unzips it and starts rooting through her haul of cans. "So...Taylor was in the beauty salon? Would that be the one that caught fire?"

Victoria blinks. She quickly crosses to the nearest generator and unscrews the cap on the diesel tank. "Uh...I mean...Taylor would go to a salon? Probably?"

"Oh. Sure! That makes sense and is in no way suspicious!" Max settles on a few cans of coconut milk and some chunky soups. She uses her knife to open the cans.

Victoria, carefully avoiding Max's eye, unscrews the rest of the caps. "So...I may have...asked Taylor to...uh...look for some things. In a salon. And I was just...guessing that's where she'd be?"

Max frowns. She pours the contents of two of the cans into a generator. "Um...okay? I don't see why you wouldn't just tell me that?"

Victoria grabs another couple of cans and goes to work on another generator. Stiffly she says, "Well there's clearly something on _your_ mind you're not telling _me_ , so..."

They look at each other. Max looks away. "I...it's nothing. It's dumb. We can talk about it later."

"Fine. Whatever." Victoria tosses the empty cans into the corner of the room.

Max collects her bag and they leave the generator room in strained silence.

* * *

When they get to where Bob told them the kitchen was, Victoria produces a selfie stick and begins attaching her compact mirror to the end.

Max whispers, " _Really_? Do you even have any battery left?"

Victoria pouts. She hisses, "I've been saving it. For a special occasion."

Max eases the swing door open and Victoria slips her mirror through the narrow crack Max leaves.

They each take a turn examining the interior as best they can.

The kitchen turns out to be a large concrete room, lit by fluorescent strip bulbs and crudely fitted out with a variety of cooking appliances and shelving units full of pots, pans and other utensils. It also contains six people: five robes -- one of whom is wearing a toque and a World's Best Dad apron with the word 'Dad' sharpied out and replaced by 'Chef' -- and one Taylor.

Taylor's hands and feet are tied with twine. She's perched on a stainless steel table, awkwardly eating an apple and engaging in very small talk with the Mall People.

Victoria removes her stick. Max eases the door closed. They share a look.

"I can't believe she's just sitting there _snacking_ ," Victoria mutters. "Typical!"

Max sighs. "At least she's okay. We should wait, though, and try to sneak her out. We should be fine, as long as nothing happens to stir up trouble-"

"Hey, guys? Is this thing working? I found some more buttons for the PA, thought I'd give this a go, see if you could hear me down in the basement!" Chloe's voice isn't quite so blaring, now, but it still echoes impressively across the concrete walls. Behind her voice is another sound, a sort of rustling, splintering sound. "So: update! Uh, yeah...the zombies are about to break the door down. And the fire's pretty much blocked off all the exits on the west side. So, seriously, you need to move. Get evacuating. No one's going to want to be sitting around in those sub-levels half an hour from now!"

Through the kitchen door, there's the sound of heated discussion and through the corridors comes the susurrus of many agitated robes swishing at speed.

Max slumps. Victoria shakes her head, mouthing, 'Feral being!'

Victoria moves to the other side of the hall, directly opposite the door, gripping her pistol in both hands. 

Max takes up position by the side of the door.

Chloe, accompanied by crashing and groaning sounds, yells, "Okay, this is me signing off! If I don't make it: Max! You're my best friend! Look after Joyce for me! And maybe arrange an accident for David? Taylor, I hope you make it out okay! And Victoria...uh...whatevs. You suck. 'kay, love you, gotta go, bye!"

Max sucks in a breath and squeezes the grip of her pistol as tightly as she can.

There's the sound of gunfire, a series of crashes and thuds, a squeal of static, and nothing more.

Max bites her lip to stifle a groan.

The kitchen door opens, an ochre-robed man hustling through with a huge chrome automatic pistol in his hand. He freezes at the sight of Victoria, who calmly kicks him in the groin. He doubles up, wheezing, and Victoria rushes him, slamming her knee into his face and shoving him back into the kitchen. The gun tumbles from his hand, skittering across the floor.

Victoria follows him in, gun ready, and Max races in behind her, covering Victoria's back.

Ochre robe is lying in a heap on the floor in front of them.

The rest of the Mall People are on the opposite side of a group of cookers, staring at them in horror. A woman in a puce robe grabs Taylor, hauling her off the work surface and holding a knife with pieces of chopped onion clinging to the blade against her neck.

Taylor spits out a piece of apple and says, "Victoria, I am _so_ sorry about this! I know how much you wanted this makeover to happen, but there were all these people with guns and...I've been trying to tell them that I think I left the curling iron on, but they keep interru-"

The chef grabs a heavy cleaver and points it at Taylor. "Shut up, you! And keep eating!"

Taylor grimaces. "I keep trying to tell them I can't eat apples, too, but-"

A man in a magenta robe grabs a pan of hot fat and hurls it at Victoria, then dives for the fallen gun.

Victoria darts behind a fridge, yelling, "No one cares about your stupid allergies, Taylor! You had _one_ job on this trip!"

"This fire...Chloe...this is all because you wanted a _makeover_ , Victoria?" Max spins around and ducks her head when a man in a chartreuse robe hurls a knife at her. The point thunks into Max's bag where it's stopped cold by a can of diced pumpkin. Max raises her gun and fires a pair of shots, blowing out the strip lights overhead.

Absolute darkness falls. The gunshots in the confined space serve to near deafen everyone, too.

Max drops her bag, gets on the floor, and crawls to her left, behind a range cooker. She waits, breathing shallowly, and listening intently.

After a tense minute of silence, Taylor says, "Ow! I think I've got glass in my hair. And my tongue is starting to feel funny. I think-"

A woman's voice hisses, "Shh!"

Max eases herself away from the cooker. She aligns herself with where she thinks the far wall is, where she saw a rack of shelves full of pots and pans. She slips the Spam out of her pocket. She waits.

After another ten seconds reluctantly pass, there's a thud, a grunt, and the sound of a body hitting the floor.

Taylor gasps. "Oh! Vic! You're saving m-"

"Duck, idiot!" Victoria hisses.

Max hurls the can, grips her pistol in both hands, and hopes. 

A gun roars deafeningly in the darkness, spitting out muzzle flare that's almost blinding in its sudden intensity. Then the can hits the shelves, dislodging pots and pans and making a clattering cacophony. A man gasps and the big gun booms again, the muzzle flash stabbing out twice in the direction of the shelves.

Max braces her arms on the top of the cooker and fires three times, aiming at a point a couple of feet to the right of the flash. Max drops behind the cooker, ears ringing, and scrambles quickly away, back towards where she thinks the door is.

The chef's deep voice rumbles out. "Aaron?" He pauses. When he next speaks, his voice sounds as though it's coming from another part of the kitchen. "Bill? Peggy?" Another pause. Another change in position. "Nick?"

Max finds a wall, and runs her fingertips across the surface of it as she moves, looking for the door.

Nick says, "I'm here, Quinton."

He sounds close. Max hears the crunch of glass underfoot, seemingly a few feet away. She freezes.

"I hear one of them, near me!" Nick's voice is close, but it's impossible to tell where _exactly_.

Max shrinks down lower.

Glass crunches again. Inches away.

Suddenly Victoria says, "I didn't want a makeover, Max."

Max blinks, rather uselessly, in the dark.

Quinton chuckles. "I can hear yoooou. Nick. I've got the gun. Can you get to the door?"

Max holds her breath.

Nick says, "Sure!"

Victoria says, "I wanted _you_ to have the makeover, Max."

Max gasps, her heart sinking at the realisation that all of her fears about her appearance were true. " _What_? I-I know I'm a bit scruffy! And I've been meaning to wash more, but..."

A knife sweeps through the air an inch above Max's head, scraping against the wall. Nick hisses in anger, and Max can sense him drawing back, ready to lunge in again. 

Max dives to her right, rolling away from Nick. She faces in the direction she thinks the door is in and forces herself to move slowly, her arm out feeling for obstacles.

Victoria says, "It's not that! I mean, your personal taste is hideous and you can't do makeup properly and your hair is a _complete_ disaster-" Victoria grunts in pain.

Quinton says, "Got you!" 

Nick's fingers catch in Max's hood.

Max's fingers touch a wooden surface.

Taylor hisses, "Victoria! You're losing Max! Get to the but before-"

Max lunges, shoving the door open, but keeping her head turned away and her eyes screwed almost shut.

Light from the corridor briefly illuminates the scene in the kitchen.

Max sees Quinton, cleaver in one fist, hand cannon in the other, tracking the huge gun towards Victoria and Taylor. They're huddled together under a table, and Max can see that Taylor is nudging Victoria with her elbow.

Max can sense Nick looming over her, knife raised.

Max and Victoria meet each other's eyes.

The door swings closed.

Darkness swallows them all.

Max doesn't hesitate. She empties her clip in the direction of Quinton.

Victoria's gun barks twice from under the table, and Nick is no longer looming over Max.

" _But_ ," Victoria says, into the sudden, echoing silence. "I don't...I don't really _care_ about how you dress, Max. Or about your hair and makeup. N-not...not _really_. I just...wanted to do something nice for you. Because...because you're always running around doing things for everyone else. You don't always take care of yourself the way you should. It was supposed to be a surprise..."

"Oh." Max swallows. "Um. I thought maybe...I thought maybe I was letting you down. Being so...you know...covered in blood and stuff all the time...I know I don't look like much at the best of times, and, well..."

From much closer, Victoria says, "No! Max! You're _so_ beautiful! And you're kind and...I mean, I would've loved to have taken you clothes shopping, if Taylor hadn't fucked up so spectacularly and destroyed everything, but..."

Max stands up, and reaches out. Her hand finds Victoria's.

Victoria's breath brushes Max's cheek. "But you being a tragic hipster with no sense of style and a disgusting penchant for shapeless grey hoodies is a part of you I can -- probably, eventually -- learn to accept. I'm...willing to do that, Max. To be with you."

"Oh, Victoria...that's actually kinda romantic! For you..."

In the darkness, Max's fingers touch Victoria's cheek. She traces Victoria's smooth skin until she finds her smiling lips. Max stands on tiptoes, and they kiss for a long, long time.

Until Taylor bumps into something in the dark and says, "Um...Victoria? Max? So happy for you! But...I'm still tied up, and I'm feeling a bit woozy, and the mall _is_ burning-"

"God, Taylor! Give it a rest! Everyone knows the mall is burning down! Because of _you_!" Victoria sighs, leaning her forehead against Max's. "Come on. Chloe's probably got some cockroach DNA in her. She's likely not dead. Let's see if we can find her and get out of here."

Max gives her a peck on what turns out to be the chin. "Thanks for not giving up on her, bunbun."

Taylor squeaks. "Bunbun! Aww, that's adora-"

"No. Not happening. Think of something else, Max!"

Max grins and kisses Victoria again. "Bet you're blushing. And that you secretly like that one."

Victoria barges out of the kitchen, grumbling under her breath. She holds the door open for them and keeps watch, scowling.

Max grins and jauntily reloads her pistol. She grabs her bag, opens her knife and cuts Taylor loose. She offers Taylor her shoulder to lean on. They join Victoria in the hall.

Victoria gestures at them to move, but Max hesitates, hefting her bag. "Hey, Taylor? Did you see any cleaning supplies in there?"

* * *

They wait at the mouth of the hall, watching all the robes go by.

Taylor whispers, "What are we waiting for? Shouldn't we-"

The lights flicker and dim, fading out almost to black. After a fraction of a second, the lights brighten again, but not all the way.

Max smiles at Taylor. "We messed up their generators. So the lights are going to be...unreliable. It should make us harder to spot. And we know anyone we run into down here is not friendly. But the Mall People can't make that assumption if they run into us...it could buy us a second or two."

"Oh! Wow! Well, maybe we should put on some robes, so that-"

Victoria snaps, "Taylor! I said I don't mind what Max wears! I still care about what _I_ wear! With robes, it's silk or nothing!"

Max blinks.

Taylor giggles. "Why, Max! You're blushing! Aww, you two are so-"

The lights flicker and dim further.

Max blurts, "Okay! Yeah, that's probably dark enough!"

Victoria smirks at her. To Taylor she says, "Bob told us where to find the stairs. They shouldn't be far."

Max leads, with Victoria in the rear and Taylor in the middle, carrying Victoria's bag and her crossbow bolts.

They bump into a couple of Mall People running around in a panic, but none of them try to stop Max and the others.

They reach the fire stairs after a few minutes. Max presses her ear to the door, catching the sound of feet pounding on concrete.

Max takes a few deep breaths. "Taylor? Could you open the door for me?"

Taylor nods. She pushes the door open and holds it while Max slips through, gun aimed out ahead of her.

Max moves into the stairwell. A second later, Victoria is at her side, her body warm against Max's shoulder.

Max tilts her head, listening. "So...uh, when we get back?"

"Yeah? Hey, are they...coming back down?"

"Yeah. Fleeing, really. We're still going up. But I was thinking...I really need a shower..." Max adjusts her bag, dragging it around so that it covers as much of her torso as possible.

"Obviously. On all counts." Victoria adjusts the straps so that the bag sits snug on Max's chest.

Max advances to the foot of the stairs. She spins her pistol around so that she's gripping the barrel. She readies her knife in her other hand. A panicking woman in a robe appears at the landing. "You know, water rationing being a thing...it'd make sense to...y'know..."

Victoria clamps a hand on Max's left shoulder and presses close behind her. "Well...I'd hate to waste water..."

The robed woman hesitates when she realises that Max and the others aren't part of her group. More Mall People crowd round behind her.

Taylor, behind Victoria, says, "Um, do we have a plan, or-"

Max yells, "MALL PEOPLE! KEEP TO YOUR LEFT! RUN IN AN ORDERLY FASHION! WE'LL DEAL WITH THE ZOMBIES!"

Max passes a few spare clips to Taylor. Victoria does the same.

Max starts up the stairs, hugging the left wall. "WE'LL CLEAR A PATH! YOU CAN FOLLOW US OUT!"

Victoria, gripping Max's shoulder and following her closely, adds, "OR NOT! WE DON'T CARE ABOUT YOU! YOU'RE WAY FUCKING GROSS! _AND_ YOU EAT PEOPLE!"

At first, the Mall People don't react. But as Max reaches, then passes, the nearest woman, they begin to run down the stairs. They do their best to avoid Max and the others, but by the time Max hits the second flight of stairs, she's only able to shove her way through the press of bodies because Victoria and Taylor are pushing her forward.

Robes of every conceivable hue pass by Max, their occupants growing increasingly vocal in expressing their panic with each step Max gains.

A topaz robe squeezes past her. A cyan robe. A blue denim work shirt lurches into view.

"Zombie!"

Max ducks her head. Victoria's crossbow thrums and the zombie pitches back, a bolt through its head. "Taylor! Load!"

Max sucks in a breath and pushes forward. She lashes out at knees and grasping fingers with her pistol butt. She stabs again and again with her knife. Victoria pushes her up with one hand and alternates between her crossbow and her own knife.

They force their way up, into a mob of zombies, Max's bag stopping teeth and claws more than once. At last, the landing comes into view. It's packed with zombies, too dense a crowd for them to force their way through.

A zombie tries to grab Max.

Max loses her knife to the zombie's skull and quickly snatches Charlene's pistol from the back of her belt.

The crossbow flies over her shoulder, hitting a zombie and causing it to stagger back, creating a brief gap. "Ugh!" Victoria observes. "We're going to need a real shower before we sex shower!"

Max brings up both pistols and begins to squeeze the trigger methodically, lining up headshot after headshot. "PLEASE DON'T SAY SEX SHOWER! NOT IN FRONT OF EVERY...THING!"

Victoria slips out from behind her, a gun in each hand, and opens fire, too. "OH, SORRY! IS THAT TOO WEIRD FOR YOU? GIRL WHO WEARS FUCKING BAMBI UNDERWEAR? AND HAIRCLIPS?"

"LIKING BAMBI ISN'T WEIRD! RELOAD!" Charlene's pistol empties. Max drops it and reaches behind her. Taylor slaps a magazine into her hand. Max fires the last round in her glock and rams the fresh clip into place.

Victoria empties Bob's pistol. She tosses it at a zombie, nailing it in the head. "RELOAD! MAYBE! BUT YOUR DEER OBSESSION IS FUCKING BORDERLINE CREEPY, MAX!"

The zombie numbers are thinning, though more are trying to squeeze through the door.

Max bites her lip. "YOU'RE JUST MAD I DON'T _FAUN_ OVER YOU ENOUGH!"

Taylor giggles. "NICE, MAX! YOU ALWAYS-"

Victoria yells, "TAYLOR! WE DON'T ENCOURAGE PUNS! MAX...uh...okay, yeah I could live with some fawning when we get back with just the two of us after the showers maybe?"

The landing is clear of moving zombies. But more of them cluster in a tight pack at the doorway, straining to get through. Max is given a moment to relax her aching arms, in fact, because so many zombies are struggling to get through that they're blocking each other like the world's most macabre vaudeville act.

Max smiles at Victoria. "Sounds good, Tori. Maybe we could go out with our cameras, too? Taylor? Can me."

Taylor carefully places a can that once contained beans and now contains a mixture of cleaning supplies and kitchen ingredients, sealed with duct tape and topped off with a kerosene-soaked terrycloth fuse.

Victoria takes another can, and sparks up her lighter. Taylor readies a third.

Victoria lights the fuses and they hurl the bombs one, two, three, through the gap between the zombies' heads and the top of the door.

They retreat down the steps. Victoria quickly leans down and kisses Max, before they all duck. Max and Victoria extend their collapsible umbrellas.

A trio of crumps sound from above, shaking the stairwell and raining dust and zombie confetti down on them.

Max waits just long enough for her balance to be good enough to allow her to stand upright and for the ringing in her ears to fade out a little. Then she grabs her pistol and totters up the stairs.

Max picks her way through the debris, out into the main floor of the mall.

There's a swathe of zombie-free devastation in a fifty foot radius from the door. Beyond that point...

Hundreds of zombies mall steadily towards her, from every side.

To Max's right, flames creep steadily along, consuming shopfronts, zombies and potted plants indiscriminately in a rising tide.

To her left is the main entrance. There are too many zombies for any plan Max can think of to get them there.

Victoria and Taylor join her. They all stare around them, looking for a way out that isn't there.

Taylor says, "Maybe we should go back down...?"

Max and Victoria exchange a look. Victoria sniffs. "I'm not dying among the chromatically challenged mob down there."

Max smiles. "They don't deserve your cashmered glory..."

Victoria laughs. "Or your pretty eyes and freckles..."

Max blushes. " _Your_ eyes are a really lovely green, you know. I was thinking that earlier..."

Taylor says, "Um...there must be some kind of fire exit down there, is all? Like, I don't know, an escape tunnel or even a sewer line...?"

Victoria smiles softly. "What else were you thinking?"

Taylor says, "Uh...the Mall People are coming? And they look, like, _pissed_? For some reason? Guys, we should-"

Over the sound of forlorn fire alarms, intermittent sprinklers, groaning zombies, and kissing Max and Victorias, a vast beast roars and rumbles.

Max pulls away from Victoria, gasping. She stares out into the flames, slowly grinning. "YES!"

Victoria glances round, groans and pinches the bridge of her nose. "Oh, _no_..."

Taylor gapes at the huge, shadowy shape moving swiftly towards them through the flames. "Is that...?"

An orange monster truck roars through the concourse, trailing fire and squashing and scattering any zombies and structures unfortunate enough to be in its way. With a screech of brakes and a squeal of smoking tires, it comes to a rocking, skewed halt less than ten feet away from Max.

Chloe pops the passenger door open and leans out, grinning like she's practicing for a Joker audition. "Hey! Anyone want a ride on the Get the Fuck Out of Here Express?"

Max laughs, clapping her hands. "Chloe! You're okay! YES!"

"Oh, thank god! Thank _you_ , Ch-"

"I'll walk," Victoria says, stiffly. "You go on ahead."

Chloe pulls out a revolver and casually guns down a closing-in zombie. She says, "Sounds perfect! Hop aboard gals who aren't Victoria!"

As Taylor runs for the truck, Max rounds on Victoria. Over her shoulder, Max can see some of the Mall people struggling out onto the concourse.

Max growls, "Victoria Maribeth Chase! You are going to get into the giant, douchey, gross truck _right now_ and grunt something that sounds like 'thank you' to Chloe so we can all get home and you and I can have shower sex after a real shower because we're covered in zombie bits!"

Victoria blinks, taken aback. "But...but...it's so _lame_ and tacky, Max!"

"Tori! I will tell everyone you liked the pet name _twinkle-kittenums_!"

Victoria gasps. "You're...you're...a monster, Max! I...really like this side of you, though, actually..."

Max quickly kisses her. "More getting into trucks now! We'll talk about how disturbing that is later!"

They sprint for the truck, picking off any zombies that come too close, and scramble up into the cab. It turns out there's just barely enough room for Victoria and Max to squash up together on top of Taylor because all of the usual safety bars have been removed from this truck.

Max watches Chloe strap herself back into the driver's seat, humming happily. Max spits out some of Taylor's hair and ventures, "Um...you'll drive carefully, right Chloe?"

"Yeah, sure, of course!" Chloe stomps her foot on the accelerator and Max is jerked backwards, butting her head against Taylor's.

Chloe shrieks happily as she accelerates the truck through the zombies and out of the concrete and glass frontage of the Guillermin Mall. "We're fucking UNSTOPPABLE, now!"

* * *

Luckily, no one's seriously injured in the crash.

Max helps Victoria haul a groggy Taylor out of the flipped and gently burning truck before racing back and cutting Chloe out of her safety harness.

The four of them drag themselves through the wreckage that remains of the parking lot after the truck ploughed through half of it. 

They lean Taylor against the side of Chloe's truck and dump their bags of supplies into the load bed.

Then they take a minute to breathe as the sun begins to sink behind the smoking, blazing mall, and all the robed people flee the inferno.

Chloe sighs. "Well, at least this means we'll all be in the same truck, so I can tell you my epic survival story on the way back, Max!"

Max nestles into Victoria's side. "Can't wait to hear it, Chlo!"

"Well, it starts when I noticed there was something incredible in that cupboard-"

"Max can wait until we're driving and I'm napping," Victoria says, putting her arm round Max's shoulders and idly running her fingers through her hair.

Taylor woozily says, "Can we go home now? I can't really feel my legs. I think I might need antibiotics..."

Victoria sniffs. "God, Taylor! I've got the stuff for your allergies in my bag. You think I'd forget something like that?"

"Oh! Thanks, Victoria."

Chloe sidles over to Taylor and drapes her jacket around her shoulders. "Here. Sorry about the bumpy ride back there."

"Tha's okay..." Taylor smiles blearily and gently collapses onto Chloe's shoulder.

Max smiles. "We'll go soon, Taylor. And you can ride in the cab, okay?" Max grabs Chloe's hand, and kisses Victoria's cheek. "But let's enjoy the sunset first."

They watch the sun sink down below the rising smoke and flames in content silence. 

When the sun goes, they do too.

They go home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All I can say about this is that I really enjoyed writing it. I think that says more about me than you likely wanted to know.
> 
> What _I_ want to know about are your honest thoughts! Especially if there were things you didn't like or didn't think worked or were confused by! Also, quick poll: should I be less mean to Taylor? Er...right. Yeah. I should just be less mean to Taylor...
> 
> I think this might be it for this fic? I kind of threw everything I had at this part, and I don't want it to outstay its welcome. I mean, it may have already with this chapter. So, yeah. Unless something draws me back in -- which will almost certainly be a shorter and much looser idea -- I guess this is their happy apocalypse after!
> 
> Thanks very much for reading, folks! May you never face a zombie and not know what to do. Preferably while bickering adorably with that cute person you like!


	4. Tails

Max is sitting on top of the barricade at the northern end of Mulberry St, kicking her heels and watching the end of the world go by. From here, on the edge of town, Max has an unobstructed view of a swathe of cleared land, rising a quarter mile to the treeline. She's pretty happy about the way everything's looking this afternoon, too. The sun is shining, there are only a few zombies visible, and when her watch ends, she'll be free to enjoy the rest of the day.

Chloe's on the southern barricade right now, and Victoria's out foraging with Dana, so there's little chance of an argument breaking out that Max will need to mediate. Max sighs contentedly; she looks out over the bay, squinting against the sun, and decides she'll get tea with Kate when her watch ends. That should be a good way to spend the day until Victoria gets back and they can do couple things in the evening.

Max smiles. "So peaceful. I have a good feeling about today!"

Something seizes her left foot and begins tugging at her leg. Max twists around, and brings her Glock with its homemade plastic-bottle-and-duct-tape silencer out of her lap. She takes a second to line up her shot and puts a bullet between the ninja zombie's yellow, filmed-over eyes. It releases its grip on her shoe as it collapses in a heap below her.

"Yeah," Max murmurs, settling herself on the wall and her gun in her lap once more. "Today's gonna be one of the good ones."

* * *

The first faint cause for concern emerges from the trees about twenty minutes later. Victoria and Dana walk out of the edge of the woods, way earlier than expected. Max frowns, and waves at them. She relaxes when they wave back, and make for her position at a walking pace.

She keeps an eye out for overly curious zombies until they get close, then leans over and hauls the end of a rope ladder to the edge of the all. She nudges it over the side a few seconds before Victoria and Dana reach the base of the barricade.

Victoria puts her foot on the lowest rung but pauses to look at the zombie Max shot. "I think you killed Mrs Hoida. Shit! I wanted to do that."

Victoria climbs quickly, followed by Dana, who hauls the ladder up after them. In deference to their excursion beyond the walls, Dana's wearing camouflage combat pants, a green tank top and an Arcadia Bay Police Department kevlar vest. Her pretty auburn hair is tied in a ponytail; her pretty features are slathered in camouflaging makeup. She has a crossbow slung over one shoulder, and a forage bag over the other. It doesn't look full.

Dana finishes stowing the ladder and smiles at Max. It's not a very happy smile. "Hey, Max! Shame about Mrs Hoida, huh?"

"Hey, Dana. You guys are back early." Max peers over the wall at the unmoving zombie. "How do you even know it's her?"

Victoria, in deference to her Victoria Chaseness, is wearing cream slacks and a burgundy sweater. She produces a clothes brush from her Chanel tote bag and begins to work on a small spot of dried mud on one of her sleeves.

"Easy. Ugliest shoes in Arcadia Bay, in spite of fierce competition. You know she gave me a B- for an essay once?" Victoria sniffs, dismissing Mrs Hoida from existence more thoroughly than zombiedom and Max's bullet combined. "Anyway, Dana's being ridiculous again. Tell her she's wrong."

Dana rolls her eyes at Max.

Max smiles at her. "It'd maybe help to know what you're talking about first?" Max sighs. "Wait, is this about the vests? Because I'm with Dana on this one. Kevlar really _is_ the number one accessory this season. I kinda wish you wore it more often. Or at all..."

"Everybody going out past the barricade really should," Dana agrees.

Victoria narrows her eyes. She flicks a glance at Dana, then advances on Max, leaning down to kiss her when she's close enough. "That was a comfort kiss, not an agreement kiss. First, _chokers_ are the key accessory right now. Second, you'd _know_ that if you ever read my fashion blog. Third, literally nothing in my wardrobe goes with flak vests. And finally, you want _moi_ to wear something with velcro fastenings? Do I look like I'm seventy, retired, living in Florida, and existing in a grey haze between post-bingo binges on happy hour mojitos?"

Max sighs and picks off another zombie. "Is that really who you think uses velcro, other than, uh, everyone who needs to wear protective gear?"

"Well, I suppose there's incontinent children and the wilfully gauche?" Victoria sniffs again. "Anyway, Dana's wrong about something else right now."

Dana clears her throat. "Um, the thing is Max, I think we have a new problem. I, uh, I think we found signs of-" 

"Uh, wait, sorry!" Max looks at Victoria. "Fashion blog?"

Dana sighs. "I mean, this is important, but...yeah, okay...you have a blog? How does that work? We have no internet."

Victoria crosses her arms, trying to contain her wrath. "My weekly fashion blog! I write it longhand and I pin a copy to the storehouse door _and_ the main gate. The new edition went up at dawn this morning. You haven't seen it?"

Max and Dana exchange a blank look. Dana says, "Oh! Uh, I'll need to look out for that. I guess..."

"Right," Max says quickly. She pauses, frowning. "I didn't hear you get up that early...oh. You make Taylor do it, don't you?"

Victoria huffs impatiently. "Only because I know how much Taylor loves fashion! She's thrilled I dictate my blog to her. You should see how happy she is when she's putting up the new edition!"

"Have... _you_ seen how happy she is? If she's up at dawn and you're still in bed, then-"

"Not the point, Max," Victoria says dismissively, and turns to Dana. "You were saying?"

Dana nods. "Uh, well, the thing is Max...I think we might have a...a werewolf in the woods."

Max blinks. "Huh. Wowser. I guess it was only a matter of time, though?"

Victoria rolls her eyes. "Oh, please! Don't tell me you're buying into this bullshit?"

Max pointedly shoots another zombie that's shambling hopefully in the direction of her ankles.

"So?" Victoria folds her arms and glares at Max. "There's a perfectly good scientific explanation for zombies."

Dana raises her eyebrows. "There is? What is it?"

"How the fuck would I know and how could I possibly care?" Victoria shrugs. "The point is, werewolves make no sense. At least zombies obey the law of conservation of mass."

Max bites her lip, uncertain if that's a Catholic thing, and unwilling to risk asking.

Dana catches her expression, though, and smiles. "She means that when werewolves change shape, they either get much bigger or smaller. Science says that's impossible, basically. Although, given how weird things have been, magic could-"

"No, it couldn't," Victoria says, boredly trimming her nails with a knife she plucks from her bag. "Because magic is bullshit for the terminally credulous. Werewolves are impossible and you're wrong, Dana."

"If you really thought I was wrong, why did you agree to cut our foraging expedition short?" Dana folds her arms and glares at Victoria.

"I wanted to change my pants. They're too pale to look good in the forest in this light."

" _What_?" Dana throws up her hands. "Victoria, you can't seriously-"

"Okay, okay," Max says, raising her hand to forestall the argument. "Why don't you tell me what makes you think there might be a werewolf out there, Dana?"

Dana sighs. "We were up in the forest trail, where it loops near the lighthouse? And we ran across a deer...or what was left of one. She was torn to pie-"

"Max gets it, thanks!" Victoria says quickly, placing a hand on Max's shoulder. She glares at Dana.

Max smiles weakly and clasps Victoria's hand. "It's okay, I can handle a dead deer, da...ude?"

Victoria twitches, and transfers her glare to Max.

"Whaaaat was that, Max?" Dana asks innocently. "Were you just about to call Victoria something sweet and endearing, like 'darling,' maybe?"

"I would never, Dana," Max says woodenly. "Victoria would absolutely hate a pet name like that."

She winks at Dana.

"I absolutely hate both of you," Victoria snaps. "Get to the point, Dana!"

"Right, so...the wounds weren't made by zombies. And I don't think there's a dog around here with jaws that big. I was thinking maybe a bear, but then-"

"We found a shirt and a pair of jeans. And they were tattered, but covered in tawny...fur." Victoria considers her reflection in the blade of her knife and makes a minute adjustment to her hair. "It was definitely not a wolf or a bear's fur. Or even a deer's."

Dana nods. "Right. There was no blood on the clothes, either. But we did find a whole bunch of footprints nearby. Human and...well, wolf-like."

Max purses her lips. "Huh. And it was a full moon last night, too."

Victoria snorts. She half-turns and hurls her knife through the eye of another zombie. "There have been full moons lots of nights, none of which gave us werewolves."

Dana shrugs. "No, but...something changed the world. About a month ago. Should we rule out the possibility?"

Max nods. "So...what do we do next, Dana? You're the halloween queen. If anyone can handle werewolves, it's you!"

"Thanks, Max!" Dana looks down at her shoes, and Max thinks she's maybe blushing at the compliment, under all the military greasepaint. 

Victoria's hand settles on Max's shoulder again; for a second, her grip tightens to an uncomfortable degree.

Max squints up at her, surprised. "Are you okay?"

In a flat voice, Victoria grunts, "Yeah. Fine."

Dana looks at Victoria, then quickly looks away. "Uh, anyway! As it happens, I did melt down some old jewellery and make some silver rounds in one of David's shop classes. I mean, SWAT classes. Just in case, y'know? Tonight's the last night of the full moon, so this is probably the time of greatest danger. We should make sure whoever's on watch is warned and properly armed. Someone should tell David, too..."

"By someone, do you mean me?"

Dana looks as embarrassed as it's possible to look under a thick coat of war paint. "It'll sound better if it comes from you. Everybody trusts you, Max. Even David. I... _we_ were going to run this past you first, even if you weren't on watch."

Victoria snorts. "Obviously."

"Well, thanks, I guess, but we all know that's not true. I'm no one special. I can't blame you for not wanting to talk to David, though." Max gets up, suppressing a sigh. She's pretty sure she isn't getting tea with Kate, now, but that's really not Dana's fault. "Well, okay. That sounds like a sensible place to start, at least. And David does like any pitch that includes the words 'precautionary measure.' Man, I just hope we don't have to deal with vampires, too." Max waits a beat. "Vampires would _really_ suck!"

"That's so lame, Max!" Dana giggles, eyes gleaming.

Victoria shudders. "Jesus, give me werewolves over puns." She pauses, considering, and her face suddenly pales. "If there really are werewolves, that would be so much worse than zombies! Can you imagine having to wax a werewolf's bikini line?"

A long, dangerous silence follows that question.

Slowly, Max says, "I'm...now desperately trying to imagine anything else?"

Dana stares at Victoria. "Why would you...? Although, I mean, wouldn't waxing a zombie be worse?"

Victoria scoffs. "Jesus Christ, who the fuck would wax a zombie's bikini line? What would be the point? They can't get a tan! Get your head out of your ass and into the game, Dana! Come on, Max. Ugh! I loathe saying this, but we need Chloe."

She strides away, muttering under her breath and radiating her annoyance at the inferior mental processes of everyone around her with every step she takes.

Max's shoulders hunch. She looks worriedly up at Dana. "Does she mean she needs Chloe for a...waxing emergency?"

Dana blinks. "Uh, I think Victoria's talking about the werewolf emergency?"

"Oh!" Max's shoulders ease back down. "Okay, good! That's fine, then."

* * *

Max leaves Dana on the wall after relieving her of her forage bag. She hurries down the ladder to street level where she finds Victoria waiting for her, tapping her foot impatiently. As soon as Max's feet hit the pavement, Victoria takes off at a fast stride.

Max jogs after her. "So why do we need Chloe?"

Victoria glances at her, irritated. "Because Dana's plan is lame and I have a better one."

"Oh. Uh, okay? I guess you believe in werewolves now."

"I believe if there _is_ a werewolf, we should find out for sure and deal with it. Definitively."

"So what's your plan?"

"Better than Dana's. "

Max groans. "Victoria! Are you mad because I almost called you darling?"

"No." Victoria tilts her head. "But don't. It's too old people-y."

Max sighs and tugs a pad and a chewed biro out of her back pocket. She flips past the first few pages, finds her current place in her list, and scores out 'darling.' She writes 'too old timey' in the margin next to it. She chews on her pen, weighing the potential of 'sprinkles' against 'cupcake,' and deciding in the end that she's kinda hungry.

She's about to close the pad when she notices a new addition in Chloe's hand: velociraptor. Max sighs and begins to obliterate it with her pen. She pauses, looking up and considering Victoria's profile. She mouths the word a couple of times, then wrinkles her nose, and scores it out.

Max puts the pad back in her pocket. She waves at a passing Juliet Watson, who waves back, beaming at her. To Victoria, Max says, "So, why are you mad?"

Victoria stops dead in her tracks and faces Max, glaring at her. "I'm fucking not!"

Max stops too. "Oh, my mistake. I clearly read your mood wrong."

"Clearly." Victoria looks away, sighs, and turns back, a grudging smile tugging at her lips. "Idiot. I'm...not mad. I'm...frustrated. Slightly. Maybe. I'll deal with it; it's basically nothing."

"Is that a talk later nothing or a bottle up until you burst nothing?"

Victoria narrows her eyes. "Let's deal with the werewolf situation first. It's that kind of nothing."

For a second, Max thinks about arguing, but...the sun's still shining and they've got a rare few minutes to themselves. "Okay. Let's swing by the storehouse and drop off this bag with Kate, then we'll go see Chloe. While holding hands. No arguments about that part."

For a second, Victoria fights her smile. Then she gives up, and looks away, muttering, "God, whatever."

She holds out her hand. Max grins and takes hold of it. They set off again, but this time at a pace that accommodates Max's shorter legs. And if it takes longer than it should to drop off the bag on their way to the other end of the street, Max really doesn't mind.

And even if Victoria chafes when Max arranges a new tea date with Kate, or exchanges a fist bump with Trevor, or asks Alyssa how her latest concussion is healing, she doesn't let go of Max's hand. Max thinks Victoria doesn't really mind the extra time it takes, either.

* * *

The next sign that today might not be the best after all comes when Max climbs up onto the parapet of the south wall and finds Taylor Christensen up there with Chloe. In the week or so since they got back from their expedition to the mall, Max has been surprised to find that Taylor and Chloe have been hanging out...at all. Taylor, Max can't help but notice, is wearing her least bloodstained shorts and a new-looking spaghetti strap cami. She's giggling at a story Chloe's telling, and shoving playfully at Chloe's shoulder.

Max is happy that her best friend and Victoria's best friend are getting along these days. She doesn't have to fake the smile she directs at them, even though she does feel a faint pang of worry about how Victoria's going to react. "Hey, guys!"

Chloe turns and grins at her. "Oh, shit! _Two_ of my favourite girls are here, now! We're just missing Kate!"

Because Chloe's facing away from Taylor, she misses the way Taylor ducks her head, blushing, at the word 'favourite.'

Max can't help but notice that Chloe's fiddling with a new choker around her neck, too.

Taylor steps alongside Chloe and says, "Hi, Max! It's, like, good to see you, but aren't you supposed to be-" She breaks off with a squeak when Victoria climbs up behind Max. "Oh! Victoria! You're back! I was just-"

"Stating the obvious? God, Taylor," Victoria says, glaring suspiciously at Chloe, "don't you have anything better to do?"

"I got finished my grave digging shift early, and since I was on late watch last night, I've got tonight off. So I thought I'd see if Chloe wanted to hang-"

"Whatever," Victoria says, stiffly, "Chloe's going to be busy later."

"Chloe is, is she?" Chloe asks, tapping her chin with her finger.

Her middle finger. Which is pointed at Victoria.

Victoria bristles. 

Max sighs, touching Victoria's arm. "Uh, so...werewolves! Pretty crazy, am I right?"

Chloe blinks. "What?"

Taylor beams at her. "Oh my god, _so_ crazy! Like, being cursed by Zeus is so extra! I mean-"

She breaks off when they all stare at her. 

Chloe blinks at her. "What?"

Max clears her throat. "Um, I thought werewolves were more of a moon curse situation?"

Taylor giggles. "Oh, no, I mean, the oldest known werewolf story is about this king who got, like, cursed by the Greek god? Zeus? The king was called Lycaon, which is where, like, lycanthrope comes from? Did you ever read Ovid's-"

Victoria scoffs. "Nobody reads Ovid, Taylor. Grow the fuck up. We're talking about _real_ werewolves, not your Classics Camp bullshit." She folds her arms and glares out over the ruins of Arcadia Bay. "Who the fuck goes to a summer camp for Latin, anyway?"

Chloe works her eye muscles again. "Okay, fucking seriously: _what_?"

Max sighs. "Dana and Victoria ran into some signs that look a lot like...werewolf activity."

Chloe rubs her jaw. "Huh. No shit? I mean, I really wanted to go in depth on this Latin camp thing, because that sounds fucking _peculiar_ , but I guess we can do werewolves real quick?"

Taylor shuffles nervously. "Uh, well, when I was younger I thought I wanted to be a lawyer, and my parents thought that, like, I should learn-"

Victoria pinches the bridge of her nose. "I swear to fucking non-Classical god, Taylor! Can we stay on topic? If you think you can manage that? Pretty please? There's a werewolf out there, and Dana's plan is a bunch of passive bullshit, so the four of us are going to go out and kill it instead. Tonight."

"We're _what_?" Max gapes at her. "We are _not_!"

Chloe nods, folding her arms. "Yeah, what Max said. You'd have to come up with something really fucking compelling to convince me to go along with _any_ plan that you made. Because unless it's a party, you can't plan shit. And I hate you. Mostly I'm not going along with you because I hate you, if that wasn't clear."

To Max's surprise, Victoria just takes a deep breath and plasters on a smirk. "Still have that RPG, Chloe?"

Chloe laughs. "Victoria. If your plan is to go out into the woods tonight to hunt a possible werewolf in the hopes that, _if_ we find it, and _if_ it doesn't tear us apart, and _if_ it doesn't turn our skulls into cups it can drink blood from at werewolf tea parties with its werewolf drinking buddies, I can kill it with my RPG...I'm so fucking _in_ , girl!"

"Perfect!" Victoria smirks at Max. "See? I told you my plan was better than Dana's."

Max groans. "No way! I'm not okay with any of this. I'm not even sure it counts as a plan! It's barely an intention! Planning permission denied, Victoria!"

"Taylor's in," Victoria points out calmly. "You're the only one being unreasonable."

"I'm not being...and Taylor hasn't agreed to anything!"

Victoria clears her throat.

Taylor jumps. "Oh, uh! Sure? I'm in? The plan for killing the werewolf with the rocket sounds-"

"That's so great," Victoria says, her tone cloying. "Oh, but before you do that, could you run back up the street and get my knife real quick? It's on the other side of the wall, in a zombie. Thanks, Sweet-T!" Victoria smirks as Taylor scampers off. "See, Max? Everyone else likes my plan."

"I don't!" Max stares at the other two. "Am I really the only one who has a problem with this?"

* * *

"I guess I am the only one who has a problem with this," Max mutters darkly.

It's four hours later, and she's standing in a clearing half a mile north of Arcadia Bay. Max is wearing dark clothes, has her pistol in her belt, three of Dana's silver rounds in one pocket, and a folding knife in the other. In the bag on her shoulder is several cans of dog food, and several lengths of rope with a variety of bells and chimes knotted into them, all scavenged from houses, bicycles, and a New Age store that Victoria said Taylor had told her about.

Max gets busy looping rope around the trunks and limbs of trees at the edge of and slightly beyond the clearing, working methodically to ensure that she makes as little noise as possible.

Victoria and Taylor are scouting deeper into the woods, looking for monster scat. Hiding in the branches of a nearby tree is Chloe, who has been clutching her rocket launcher and vibrating with excitement for most of the evening.

"This is the fucking best," Chloe yells enthusiastically, when Max nears her tree. "I can think of literally nothing better than blowing up a werewolf and toasting marshmallows on its smoking corpse."

Max rubs her ear. "Um, wowser. Maybe keep it down, Chlo?" Max sighs. "That sounds really gross, too. I'm so glad we don't have marshmallows."

After a couple of seconds of rustling, Chloe's hand emerges from the branches holding an economy bag of the aforementioned confectionary.

Max groans. "Really?"

The bag disappears, there's some more rustling, then Chloe's muffled voice says, "Wha'? You don'f li'e...ulp...marshmallows?"

"I don't like the idea of roasting them over someone's corpse!"

"Some _thing's_ corpse, Maxiny Cricket," Chloe says soothingly. "Something evil! It'll be karmically neutral at worst." She rustles her leaves meditatively. "And delicious."

"I'm not sure that's how karma works." Max ties off the end of the rope. She's covered as much as the perimeter as she can, leaving a gap to the south, giving them a line of retreat to Mulberry St. She pulls out a can of dog food and studies the dementedly cheery terrier depicted on the label. "I'm not sure this'll work, either. Do werewolves eat dog food?"

"Eh, whatevs. Victoria's plan probably won't work, but I'm gonna blow _something_ up tonight, since we're out here. On your six."

Max turns, pulling her knife, and absentmindedly kicks the knee of an approaching zombie. When it stumbles and falls onto its hand and knees, she stabs it through the ear. "Where did you even find marshmallows?"

"A magician never reveals her source."

"That's journalists, not magicians, and you're neither." Max wipes her knife clean on the grass and retreats under Chloe's tree, putting her back to the trunk. "I'm betting you tricked them out of Kate."

"Is it my fault she finds me irresistibly charming? Also you can't prove anything, especially if we eat the evidence. Three."

"You'll get Kate in trouble if you steal food." Max assesses the tall, bulky zombie lurching her way. "Gimme a hand?"

Chloe drops her hand down through the branches. Max waits until the zombie approaching on her right is close, then jumps up, grabbing Chloe's wrist. Chloe grabs Max's wrist and heaves, pulling her up so that Max's upper body is above the zombie's head. Chloe lets go. Max drops down on the zombie, driving the point of her knife through its skull.

Max lands with a grunt and takes a few seconds to work her knife free.

"I'm not stealing food. No one counts marshmallows as food!" Chloe sighs. "Look, I won't get Kate in trouble, Max. Promise. She's the most precious Marshmallow of all. And she's one of my favourite girls!"

"I know." Max aims a knowing grin at the foliage above her. "What about your other favourite girl, Taylor? You two have been hanging out a lot since we got back."

The leaves rustle indignantly. "I can't help it if she finds me irresistibly charming, too! I'm very charming, Max."

"It is a daily struggle to resist you," Max says solemnly. Part of a branch drops on her head. "Hey! What are you doing?"

"Cutting sticks for marshmallow toasting. Duh!" There's the sound of industrious woodcutting for a few seconds, then Chloe pensively says, "Taylor's...nice. When she gets a chance to finish a sentence. I dunno if there's anything there, or if I'm even...I still miss Rachel, y'know?"

Max winces. "Yeah, I bet."

Chloe coughs. "Uh, hey! On the subject of evil somethings we should blow up: your girlfriend, Velociraptor Chase-"

"I'm not breaking up with Victoria, Chloe. And you're not blowing her up! I...like her. A lot. She's actually...sweet, too. Underneath it all."

"Hmph. How fucking far down do you need to dig? Crawler at eight."

"Oh, come on! She's not _that_ bad! Although...uh, branch me." Max stomps on the outstretched hand of the zombie as it tries to drag itself into ankle biting range. She reaches up and Chloe slaps a substantial stick into her hand. Max quickly crouches and thrusts it between the zombie's snapping jaws before she finishes it with her knife. "Yeah, she got kinda weird with Dana earlier."

"Oh, no surprise there. Vicky's hella jealous of her."

Max blinks. "She is? Why?"

"Dana makes you smile."

Max gapes up at the branches above, until a few leaves fall in her mouth, making her sputter. "H-hey!"

"Heh! Couldn't resist!"

"Weirdly, I'm finding it easier to resist _you_ by the minute."

"Lies," Chloe says cheerfully. "You love me."

Before Max can reply, she hears a jingling sound from deeper in the woods.

"Werewolf?" Chloe asks eagerly.

Max listens to the sounds of cursing and grumbling coming their way and shakes her head. "Velociraptor."

Victoria picks her way through the trees, ducking under or stepping over various ropes. She stops in the middle of the clearing, putting her hands on her hips. "Where's Taylor?"

Max shares a glance with the leaves above her. "Uh...she was with you. We haven't seen her."

Victoria rolls her eyes. "Typical! We go werewolf hunting and she gets lost as soon as we get to the bit that takes effort! Well, whatever. The werewolf's got to be close. Let's do this."

Max rubs the back of her neck. "Uh, don't you want to look for her? There are zombies and a werewolf about..."

"And if we noisily deal with the werewolf, things'll be safer for Taylor! She'll be fine until then. I don't want to spend _all_ night out here on one stupid werewolf. Besides, we left a trail of dog food leading here, and the moon's rising. We don't have time to look for her ."

From above them, Chloe says, "She kinda has a point, Max. Taylor's not exactly going to go after the werewolf by herself. And she can handle a few zombies. I've been giving her tips!"

Victoria glares in Chloe's direction fiercely enough to wither leaves. "What? When? She told me she was too busy to give me a pedicure this week! Was she with you? _Willingly_?"

"I do have a loaded RPG here, Vicky."

Max sighs. "Guys!" She drives her knife through the top of a can of Tom Terry's Terriers' Taste Tantaliser and levers it open. Victoria and Chloe's branches fall silent, staring at her. "We're committed. We're dealing with the werewolf, then we're rescuing Taylor."

"Great," Victoria snaps, folding her arms and turning her back on Chloe's tree.

Chloe quietly mutters, "Yeah, we'll rescue her. From Vicky..."

"Not helpful, Chloe!" Max hisses at her. She walks over to Victoria's side. "So, uh...you okay?"

"Fine!"

Max nods, working the toe of her shoe into the grass at her feet. "So...nothing you wanna talk about...cupcake?"

"No. And no fucking way."

"So..." Max sighs, mentally crossing another off the list. "Are you jealous of Dana?"

Victoria snorts. "How could I be? I've never been jealous of anyone ginger..." She trails off, frowning. "Well, maybe Ron. Hermione could do so much better."

"Ah...ha...that's, uh, that's-"

Victoria sighs noisily. "I'm not jealous of Dana. I'm...not jealous. Not exactly. I'm...ugh. It's hard to talk about, okay?"

"Okay," Max says softly. "But you can. If you want."

"I...I used to run Blackwell, Max. Not the teaching, or administration, obviously. But all the things that matter. The Vortex Club. Who was out and who was in. What to wear and what to burn in a dumpster. People came to me for advice...they looked up to me! People like Dana. And now...now no one even reads my stupid blog! Which is why I want this werewolf hunt to work!"

"I'll read your blog! And people do look up to you! _I_ look up to you!"

Victoria sighs again. "You look up _at_ me. Because you're tiny."

Max knows it's a deflection, but she decides not to press right now. "I'm not tiny, I'm _snug_. Which means I'm the perfect size for snuggling. Are you saying you feel dissatisfied with our snuggles?"

And that makes Victoria smile. "Only that we don't get enough time for as many as I'd like."

"Good." Max smiles up at Victoria. "Yoooou could kiss me, if you want. Right now. Just saying."

"Oh, really?" Victoria grabs the collar of Max's hoodie, tugging her closer. "You know, I think I might want that?"

Chloe clears her throat. " _I_ don't!"

Victoria chooses to ignore her, so Max does, too.

Max isn't sure how much time passes, but it's long enough for a kiss to have become several by the time she hears a sound like a twig snapping. Max reluctantly pulls away from Victoria. "You hear that?"

Victoria glances round. "Hear what?" At that moment, there comes the unmistakable sound of branches breaking, coming from somewhere deeper in the forest. "Oh. That."

"Hey, Max?" Chloe's voice is high and tight. "I think you should put the dog food down."

Max blinks, and looks at the can she forgot she was holding. She steps into the middle of the clearing, on only slightly shaking legs, and puts the can on a rock. She starts to back up, only to shriek and jump when something touches her back.

It's Victoria, of course, and Max gives her an embarrassed look when her feet touch the ground again.

Victoria tries to smile. "Maybe we should take cover?"

Moonlight breaks through the clouds and washes over the clearing. In the forest, something with a lung capacity that would make a blue whale envious lets loose a howl that leaves Max with ringing ears and an uncomfortable awareness of how empty her bladder wants to be.

Victoria whispers, "Shit!"

Max swallows, and fumbles her pistol out of her waistband. "Y-yeah, r-right?"

Pale-faced, Victoria faces her. "I'm going to have to admit that Dana was right. _Shit_! I was really looking forward to rubbing her face in how real werewolves aren't!"

"That's...not the most pressing issue? Maybe?" Max checks her safety's on, then ejects the clip. She thumbs a few rounds out of the clip, dropping them onto the grass because her hands are shaking too much to catch them. "I think we should add a step to your plan where we make a better plan."

Victoria scoffs. "No fucking way!" She raises her voice to be heard over the growing sound of something large stomping through the undergrowth towards them. "I want everyone to know I'm a brilliant planner! My plan is working _perfectly_ so far! It's headed right for us!"

Max very, very carefully fishes one of Dana's silver bullets out of her pocket and takes a deep breath. She forces the bullet into the clip. "Yeah, uh, but...when it gets here?"

There's a tremor in her voice, but that seems fair; there's a tremor in the ground, too. 

"When it gets here..." A chorus of chimes and bells join the symphony of breaking tree limbs and uprooted bushes. Victoria yells, "CHLOE BLOWS IT UP!"

From above them, Chloe yells, "I THINK I'M GONNA NEED A BIGGER GRENADE!"

Max exchanges a look with Victoria. They turn and sprint in opposite directions, towards opposite sides of the clearing. Max has barely made it behind the dubious cover of a sapling when, with a roar, the werewolf bursts out of the treeline. Branches shatter into splinters that hiss through the air in every direction, shredding the leaves above Max's head, forcing her to duck. 

She looks up when she hears a thud. The werewolf has landed in the middle of the clearing, where it pauses, nosing the ground around the can of dog food. 

Moonlight spills across it in gleaming waves, rendering every detail with perfect clarity. It's down on all fours, but it's forelegs aren't legs at all, they're paw-tipped arms, thick with muscle. Hunkered down, with its wolf-like muzzle to the ground, it's still nearly six feet tall. It's head is that of a wolf's, but far larger, and the creature's entire body is coated in fur that ranges from tawny to an almost pale gold in colour.

Max swallows. She slips her pistol under her hoodie and very, very slowly begins to rack the slide, trying to chamber the silver bullet while making as little noise as possible.

The werewolf turn its attention to the can of dog food. It pins the can in place with one paw, raises the other and...a blur of motion follows. Claws slide into view for a fraction of a second, followed by a swipe of the paw that's faster than Max can track, and then the can is split open, neatly eviscerated along its length, and the werewolf lowers its muzzle and drags its tongue across the can, and all the food is gone.

It all happens before Max has pulled the slide of her Glock halfway.

The werewolf licks hopefully at the can again, then raises its massive head. Its nostrils flare.

It turns towards Max.

She realises that her knife still has traces of dog food on it, and that her knife is in her pocket. And that she has a few more cans of food in her bag. Max yanks the slide all the way back as the werewolf turns its huge body in her direction, muscles bunching, ready to pounce.

From the other side of the clearing, Victoria screams, "FOR FUCK'S SAKE, CHLOE! FIRE!"

The werewolf tenses, whipping round to face the other side of the clearing.

Chloe says, "I...can't. She's...wagging her tail. She's just...too cute to explode!"

Max blinks. 

The werewolf looks around, ears pricking, tail indeed wagging, albeit a bit uncertainly now.

Max licks her lips. "Um..."

The werewolf bounds at Chloe's tree, covering the distance in a single leap. It rears up onto its hind legs, its muzzle vanishing into the leaves and branches that shelter Chloe.

When Chloe shrieks, Max rushes out of cover, raising her gun.

Chloe's shriek abruptly morphs into intelligible words. "OH, FUCK! SHE'S LICKING ME! WEREWOLVES ARE SLOBBERY! SO MUCH SLOBBER! HELP!"

Max blinks some more. The werewolf's tail is wagging like fury. After a second, with a series of crashes and a very loud thud, Chloe's RPG falls out of the tree.

"I'M SCRATCHING HER EARS SO SHE WON'T EAT ME! BUT SHE'S STILL LICKING ME! MAX! DO SOMETHING!"

Max rubs her jaw. "Like...what? Oh! CHLOE! TRY RUBBING UNDER HER JAW!"

There's a brief pause. Then, "AGH! SHE'S LICKING MY...ALRP...MY FACE! I LOST MY BEANIE! THIS IS NOW...ULPH...WORSE, MAX! I DON'T WANT TO...ACK...DROWN!"

Victoria strides over to Max's side, her hands on her hips. "What the _fuck_ is this? What kind of werewolf has a waggly fucking tail?"

Max tugs her earlobe. "Y'know...a better question might be, why is she so keen on Chloe?" Victoria shrugs, opening her mouth, but Max quickly cuts her off. "Don't say 'feral being.' Chloe is not-"

"Jesus, Max! The proof is enormous and right in front of you!" Victoria gestures at the enormous creature still occupied with lavishing its affection on Chloe. "This thing obviously recognises one of its own!"

Max rolls her eyes. "This thing isn't a thing, Victoria! It's _Taylor_!"

Victoria stares at Max. She stares at the enormous creature. She looks back at Max. She looks up at the sky. She looks down at her shoes. She seems to draw strength enough from her pink Adidas to raise her head and say two words. "Taylor! HEEL!"

The werewolf's tail stops wagging. She drops down onto all fours, whimpers softly, and approaches Victoria, stopping just short of her, head and tail both resolutely down.

With a rattle of branches and a muffled thud, Chloe falls out of the tree.

Max stows her gun and tentatively pats at the sleek fur on Taylor's shoulder. Taylor's fur is soft, but her body feels like its got a furnace at its core, and the muscles beneath her skin are harder than rock. The power in her new body is obvious, even when she's standing as still as she is now. In spite of the fact that Max is pretty sure Taylor won't hurt them, it's hard to resist the thrill of fear she feels being this close to Taylor's massive, drooling jaws.

"So..." Max looks at Victoria. "We solved the werewolf problem. Yay?"

"Oh, this is _so_ typical," Victoria seethes. "She's always jumping on every new fad that comes along! Werewolves are around for five fucking minutes and she's all in on the werewolf train! Does she ever stop to consider the damage she can do to herself and the people around her? No! Guess who had to talk her down that time she wanted to wear sequined dungarees to a slumber party? Spoiler warning: me!" Victoria grinds her teeth. "Christ! This is almost as bad as her dreadlocks phase."

Chloe staggers up to them, her beanie gone, her hair dishevelled, every visible part of her coated thickly with werewolf drool. "Ow...what the fuck is going on, guys?"

Max nods at Chloe. "Taylor's the werewolf."

"Oh." Chloe wipes some spit off her face. "Okay, yeah. That makes sense."

Victoria glares at her. "How does _this_ make sense?"

Chloe shrugs. "She told me she fell asleep on watch last night, had a weird dream, and woke up this morning on your roof, naked and covered in blood."

Max exchanges a look with Victoria. "Aaaand you didn't think to mention this before?"

"We figured it was just Victoria pranking Taylor."

While Victoria sputters in protest, Max just sighs. "Oh, okay. Yeah, that makes sense. Also, Taylor totally has a crush on you, Chloe."

The Taylorwolf whines and fixes a reproachful eye the size of a tennis ball on Max.

"Oh, come on, dude! You're literally panting and drooling when you look at her!"

Chloe blushes. "Uh...well, uh...I mean, I do think you're really cute, Taylor...you've got, uh, really nice fur...and _such_ a sleek muzzle..."

Taylor wags her tail once, then freezes, whimpers, and looks at Victoria.

She rolls her eyes. "God, Taylor! Whatever. If you want to date Chloe..." She shudders. "I...she has really cold feet! So...so just know what you're getting into, okay?"

Taylor wags her tail and presses her head against Victoria's side. 

Victoria groans. "I didn't bring my lint brush...ugh!" She tentatively rubs one of Taylor's ears. "I'll need to find another flea collar, too."

Max's brow wrinkles. "Another?"

Chloe gasps. "Oh, what the fuck, Vic? You said this was a choker you didn't need! I don't have fucking fleas, asswipe!"

"For which you're welcome," Victoria replies, smugly.

Chloe touches her throat. "I did think it felt kinda oily...but chokers are the shit right now."

Victoria gasps. " _You_ read my blog?"

"Oh, yeah. It's some quality content. I've learned a lot about the kind of footwear I should be scavenging for in the future."

Max clears her throat. "Speaking of the future...we should probably work out what we're going to do about Taylor."

Taylor whines, and tucks her tail under her body.

"God, Taylor!" Victoria snaps, "I'm not letting anyone hurt you!" Taylor immediately perks up, lifting her tail and opening her mouth. Her immense tongue flashes into view. Victoria recoils. "Ew, no! Get spit on my cashmere and I'll end you!" She shoots a guilty glance at Max. "Painlessly, of course."

Chloe leans companionably against Taylor's side, idly rubbing her belly. "Oh, shit you're cozy and warm! I mean, we're talking about, what? Three transformations a month, right? And she's chill! Not even David can complain about this!"

Max purses her lips. She tunes out the rest of the conversation. As Victoria and Chloe discuss kennels and argue about who's going to take Taylor for walkies, Max focuses on a new, disturbing, and insistent thought. 

She's pulled out of her reverie when Taylor presses the tip of her nose to Max's cheek. She blinks and finds the other three staring at her.

Chloe says, "Uh, Max? You're holding your gun..."

Max looks at her hand. She's holding her gun. "Yeah..."

Victoria hunkers down, locking eyes with Max. "What's wrong?"

"Victoria...you didn't recognise those clothes you and Dana found?"

"No, but...huh."

"Chloe. Last night was the first time Taylor had a weird dream, right?"

"Uh..." Chloe shrugs helplessly. "I guess?"

Taylor ducks her head twice, whining.

"Good girl, Taylor! Thanks! Yeah, so...how did Taylor become a werewolf? Don't you have to be bitten or something? If she just magically became one, she'd have transformed two nights ago, when the moon was getting full?"

"Waxing gibbous," Chloe supplies helpfully. "Technically, the moon is only ever really full for an instant, and that happened last night."

Max gestures at Taylor. "I think werewolves have a different idea about that? The point being-"

"The point being," Victoria says, scanning the treeline. "There's something else out there. Those weren't Taylor's clothes I saw. Taylor doesn't shop at the fucking Gap!"

Taylor's ears perk up again, and swivel this way and that.

Chloe pushes away from Taylor, chewing her lip. "Shit! I lost my marshmallows...what's the plan now?"

Taylor's ears stop. Her body tenses.

Victoria meets Max's eyes and...sighs. "It's here." She cracks her knuckles. " So now we follow Max's lead. Obviously."

Chloe grins. "Good plan, Vicky!"

Max hurriedly says, "This thing must've got Taylor, right off the wall. But it didn't kill her, because it figured it could draw more people to it. Bigger meal this way. Okay, I've got one silver bullet in the chamber, but I'm not feeling good about getting through muscle that dense, so..." Max spins her pistol around and offers it butt first to Victoria. "You're the better shot."

Victoria accepts the gun with a nod. "Got it.

"Chloe, you know what to do and I'll tell you when. Taylor, gimme a paw?"

While Chloe jogs back to the tree she fell out of, Taylor holds up her right paw which is, Max notes, about the size of Max's head. Max digs a can of dog food out of her pack and Taylor slices the top of it off with a flick of a claw. 

Victoria says, "Max...hurry!"

Taylor whimpers. 

This werewolf isn't noticeable for the noise it makes, but for the way that everything else seems to fall silent when it arrives. It comes in from the treetops, behind Max, so the first she sees of it is its shadow, surrounding her in darkness. Max watches Victoria take a quick step back, drop into a crouch, and ready her pistol. Max's hands are steady when she jams the other two silver bullets into the meat inside the open can of Tom Terry's Terriers' Taste Tantaliser.

Max yells, "Taylor!" Then she leaps to her left, diving and rolling so that she comes up in a crouch facing where she started from. The newly arrived werewolf has fur a shade or two darker than Taylor's, and is a couple of sizes larger, too. It lands in the space Max just left, and lashes out at her with terrifying speed, its claws gleaming like scalpels in the moonlight.

It doesn't decapitate Max, but only because Taylor slams into it, snarling and snapping with her huge jaws. The impact of the two werewolves colliding shakes the ground and makes Max stagger back a step. She almost drops the can, and loses focus for a second as she juggles it.

She looks up just in time to see the werewolf fight end. Taylor has teeth sunk into the bigger beast's thigh, but it rakes its claws across her back, making her release it with a yelp. The big werewolf rears up, whips its arm across and backhands Taylor. She's hurled across the clearing, slamming into a tree with enough force to split the trunk.

Victoria hisses out a breath. "Hey, Cujo!" The werewolf swivels, orienting on her even as she aims the Glock at it. In a tone of voice so cold it would give winter the shivers, Victoria says, "You hurt my bestie. Prepare to die."

She squeezes the trigger, and fires her silver bullet through the werewolf's right eye. It arches back, emitting a sound that is part scream, part howl, and all agony. The huge creature totters back a step, pawing at its ruined eye socket, and falls on its back, whimpering.

For a second, Max almost dares to hope that that's it. But it isn't. The werewolf scrabbles in the dirt, seeking purchase. Its whimpers become growls, and slowly it pushes itself upright, turning its head so that it can fix its one eye on Victoria.

Victoria pulls her own pistol from her hip holster and aims both weapons calmly at the vast beast. Before it can move and Victoria can fire, Max rushes forward, yelling, "CATCH!" The werewolf's head whips round, and its jaws snap, effortlessly plucking the can out of the air.

It gulps it down in a single swallow.

The werewolf hesitates, torn between deciding which girl it wants to tear apart first. Victoria opens fire, methodically firing shot after shot at the wounded beast. Lead pistol rounds don't seem to do much more than annoy it, but that's enough to decide it on rushing at Victoria. 

It's much faster than Max, but Max started running for Victoria the instant she fired her first round. A split second before the werewolf's jaws can close around Victoria's head, Max tackles her from the side, throwing them both flat on the ground. Victoria twists around so she's staring up into Max's eyes. 

"Max..."

The beast looms over them, opening its jaws wide to howl in triumph.

Max screams, "CHLOE!"

Chloe roars, "FUCK! YES!"

There's a click, a whoosh, a muffled, squishy thud, and the werewolf's howl is choked off. It staggers back, pawing in confusion at its throat, which is currently blocked by a grenade propelled there by the rocketry of Chloe's launcher.

Max throws her body over as much of Victoria's cashmere as she can, squeezes her eyes shut, and covers her ears.

She still gets a full array of sensory impressions that will stay with her as lasting memories when the werewolf explodes.

* * *

"I honestly wasn't jealous of Dana," Victoria finally admits on their walk home. She and Max are holding hands, and have been since they left the clearing. It takes a lot of time to work around bushes and branches that want to part them, but neither of them minds taking their time right now. "I...I get jealous of _you_ , sometimes. Which is dumb, I know, and that's why I didn't want to say anything. But everyone comes to you when they have a problem, Max. Everyone looks up to you. Everyone respects you." Victoria stops, so Max does, too. "And they fucking well should, obviously. _I_ do."

"Sprinkles..." Max sighs when Victoria wrinkles her nose. "Okay, not sprinkles. But, thank you. I mean, I don't think any of that's true, really, but-"

"Max. How about this? Learn to take the compliment, and to recognise how fucking amazing you are. And I'll learn not to be jealous of my amazing girlfriend. Because mostly, I'm just...grateful you're my amazing, cashmere-saving girlfriend."

"Oh. Okay. Okay, I...you know I feel the same, right? I...mean, maybe my feelings about cashmere aren't as, uh, strong as yours, but..." Max stops, when she sees that Victoria's smiling, and patiently waiting for her to get her thoughts together. Max smiles, too. "I mean, okay. Deal."

Victoria tugs gently, and Max moves to stand in front of her. They kiss, under a shaft of silver moonlight, dappled with the shadows of the sighing leaves, careful not to get any of the astonishing quantity of werewolf gore that Max is caked in on Victoria's cashmere.

They only stop when Chloe says, "D'awww! Look at those two lamebirds! I mean, lovebirds!"

Victoria scowls and mutters, "I still hate her, though..."

"No you don't. She reads your blog." Max leans round Victoria and rolls her eyes at Chloe, grinning. "Like you can talk, lovergirl!"

And really, Chloe can't, because not only is she walking with her hand in a tuft of Taylor's fur, but, as has been the case every minute or so since Taylor shook off the shock of breaking a tree with her body, Taylor takes the opportunity to tenderly lick Chloe's face.

"Agh!" Chloe gasps in protest. "Taylor, c'mon! You're supposed to save the goodnight kiss for the _end_ of the date!"

Max grins up at Victoria, who is blushing and looking at her...oddly. Max gasps. She whispers, "Lovergirl? For real?"

Victoria bites her lip. "We can...we can try it out. I suppose."

"Whatever you say, lovergirl!" 

Max giggles, feeling light and floaty and surprisingly fine. She supposes that tomorrow will bring new headaches -- and joint aches, once the adrenaline and endorphins fade out of her system -- but tomorrow is still hours away, and today?

Max squeezes Victoria's hand and they resume their stroll home, with their best friends beside them.

"Yeah," Max says, beaming at them all. "Today's been one of the good ones."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, folks!
> 
> I really didn't plan to write more of this, but plans are for people who want to have a structured and successful life, and who needs any of THAT stuff? So, when I say I have no plans for more Max Gets Chased...well, right now that's true. I guess we'll see what my brain thinks however many months down the road...
> 
> Please do let me know your thoughts in the comments, be they ever so critical!


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